


Skinny Love

by Archristol



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archristol/pseuds/Archristol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Come on skinny love just last the year...<br/>Definition: Love that's too skinny to survive. It's not properly fleshed out and is doomed to failure.</p><p>"...Full of passion, emotion, struggle!" - geler7<br/>"...Writing style still mystifies me and makes my being shudder..." - Sarion<br/>"...Addicting and painful in all the right ways." - Lord Tubbington</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Story Playlist: http://8tracks.com/archristol/skinny-love

_I can give it all on the first date,_  
 _I don't have to exist outside this place,  
And dear know that I can change._

[-]

Inactive blue glass eyes slowly opened.

_It was blurry._

So its feminine eyelashes helped flicker the eyesight to a fix. And they discovered a flimsy wooden ceiling hovering above, faintly illuminated.

_Possibly… A shack? Dawn or dusk?_

Thoughts scrambled for an explanation, hurting when it jogged rampantly. For certain, the mind knew of itself.

_Ophelia Cousland. A noblewoman, rogue, and… Grey Warden._

Suddenly, the thought was interrupted.

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother should be pleased," a familiar woman's voice encouraged. Ophelia could hear the floor creak as she ambled closer.

_Someone's mother? The one who took the Grey Warden treaties. Flemeth… Was it? And her daughter; that voice…_

Ophelia's irises tracked the source of the bold articulation, past her limp arms, the ruffled blankets, and unto the face of a mage equal her age.

_Morrigan… She had been saved and cared for._

She bent her upper body, enough to eye the woman, eagerly inquisitive, "Your mother… She saved me?" There was a brief pause as she held some digits on a temple. _Saved her from…_ "Wait––what happened to the darkspawn?"

Morrigan regarded her with concern – _but limited patience,_ "You were injured then mother rescued you, yes. And, to answer your second question, the man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle," she continued carefully, "Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… He is not taking it well."

The Grey Warden's eyes widened to an extent, "You mean Alistair? Is he alright?"

"The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes. He is outside by the fire, just fine. Mother asked to see when you awoke," Morrigan quickly shifted topics, hoping to be dismissed.

"Why did your mother save us, exactly?" and another question. _Oh, but the woman had merely awakened. She deserved a few more answers._

"I wonder at that myself, but she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were the only ones she could reach," in her wish to not be interrogated further, she decided to tease lightly, "I would have rescued your king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom than you."

Ophelia, not completely despaired by the events, shot back, "I happen to be nobility, you know."

"I stand corrected," the witch admitted with a straight face, but her golden globes twinkled with humor.

"Hmm, well… Thank you, Morrigan. For everything," Ophelia said, in her usual courtesy.

Morrigan was genuinely heart warmed to a degree. _That civility she performed previously... And she remembered her name._ "I… You are welcome."

The Warden reclined on the bed she rested, eyes lost again on the roofing, "I'll be out in a while. I… I want to rest my head for a couple more minutes, if you don't mind."

"No, I do not mind," Morrigan assured. She circled the bed then tapped on a wooden container – to which Ophelia peeked, "Your belongings are in this chest, once you are ready."

Morrigan left when she received a nod from the reposed platinum blonde head. Unknown to her, its brain reviewed the information gathered in a whirlwind.

_Morrigan and her mother could be trusted, for the moment. Though, they would have an initial intent for saving them – this, she was fairly confident of. And Loghain quit the field. Not entirely unexpected, as she had foreseen the shady resolve in his eyes. The gravity of the betrayal, however, was inconceivable – it meant that Duncan and King Cailan were dead – manipulated to be intentionally left for dead. They were murdered, just the same. In addition to her… Family… Especially, her mother and father…_

[-]

_But if stars, shouldn't shine,_  
 _By the very first time,_  
 _Then dear it's fine, so fine by me,_  
 _'Cause we can give it time,_  
 _So much time,_  
 _With me._

[-]

"Wow! This place is swarming with refugees," a Templar spoke with mock shock. Ophelia couldn't care less as he plotted with a whisper, "We should pretend to get lost... Then run for the hills when the coast is clear, leaving the _evil_ witch behind." He sounded extra excited at that last phrase.

Her dog, Nutella, barked conversationally as they walked. The Mabari was rescued by Flemeth as well, much to her joyful surprise.

"You're _so_ funny, Alistair," she deadpanned, "But I'm _rea~lly_ too tired to play hide and seek. Not after those bogus toll collectors, anyway. Give me an hour or so to recover, at least."

"Oh c'mon!" Alistair hunched in disappointment. He was _very disappointed._ That plan was the most perfect plan out of his long list of "Ditch the Witch" schemes and his leader didn't give a rat's ass. _Unless the rat happened to be Morrigan. What she saw in her, he couldn't grasp._

The inseparable trio walked together, with the sorceress as their third wheel (which she preferred, nonetheless.) Flemeth had offered Morrigan to be a part of their team for purposes of assistance in their quest to end the Blight. The elderly woman was quite content with the exchange, and her obedient daughter quite the opposite. Either way, Ophelia agreed to let her tag along for the sole excuse that it couldn't hurt. _And if it did, she would be prepared._ She considered Morrigan's advice, and they traveled onwards to Lothering in a couple of hours with bandits as their only obstacle. Alistair had been quiet for most of the period, save for the times he conspired against the loner. He was back in good spirits once they reached their destination, despite Morrigan's witty remarks to shoot him back down.

It was now noon and the Warden's starving, and thus – easily irritated. In which case, when they neared the end of the crowd and found a merchant squabbling with a Chantry lady over prices, Ophelia was absolutely frustrated. She led her group to interfere when the man shoved the protester aside.

"It's so nice to see everyone working together in a crisis. Warms the heart," Alistair first gained their bothered attention with his intrusion. Ophelia studied the turmoil with a fold of her armored arms.

"You there! You look able. Would you care to make a tiny profit helping a beleaguered businessman?" the trader referred to her, smirking optimistically.

She shrugged, "Get rid of the _tiny_ part, and I'll consider it." Her posture and tone hinted at restricted negotiation.

"A-ha! I'm not the only one with some business sense," the bearded man chuckled proudly.

A whiny grumble came from the Chantry woman, "He is charging outlandish prices for things people desperately need! Their blood is filling his pockets!"

"'Tis only survival of the fittest. All of these cretins would do the same in his shoes, given the chance," Morrigan chimed in.

The merchant added to his defense, "I have limited supplies. The people decide what those supplies are worth to them."

"You bought most of your wares from these very people last week! Now they flee for their lives, and you want to talk business?" the nagging lady cried for pity.

"Look, stranger. I've a hundred silvers if you'll drive this rabble off, starting with that priest. I'm an honest merchant, nothing more," he declared, conclusive.

"Add a discount and you have a deal," Ophelia firmly insisted.

"Fine. Drive off this woman and get your hundred silvers, plus a twenty percent discount."

The two debating individuals were examined thoroughly before she announced, "Alright, let me talk to her."

She directed everyone to wait before she politely steered the priest away to speak privately. Once they were distant from earshot, she shushed the whining woman then sympathized with her, "Listen closely. My name is Ophelia, and I am a Grey Warden. Believe it or not, I'm here to help you." The lady sighed then nodded, still with an ill-tempered expression but noiseless. "The man offered one hundred silvers. Now, I can give you that money to divide amongst the poor folk, if you promise to be silent," she signaled a stopping hand when she predicted an objection, "Or you can leave it up to me to gather the necessary supplies for them, I will be able to collect more with the discount. Lothering will most likely be swallowed up by the darkspawn once my group leaves this place. Until then, you can seek me out if this is not enough. As for the merchant, leave him to feel triumphant about the situation. With it, I can haggle a bit more if needed. Understood?" She gazed upon her with a kind ardor that was calming.

The older woman trusted her reassuring words and bobbed her head in gratitude, "I await for your return then, Grey Warden. Thank you for this generous assistance."

"Don't thank me yet," Ophelia hid a smile as she reverted back to her playacting – and discovered Morrigan observing her dubiously.

[-]

_And I can draw the line on the first date,_  
 _I'll let you cross it,_  
 _Let you take every line I've got,_  
 _When the time gets late._

[-]

After her little service, Ophelia made priority of her stomach and headed to the next most sensible stop – or the closest thing that looked like a place to eat – Dane's Refuge. When they entered, all she wanted to do was find the nearest perishable food (that would replace the bitterness, from the Witch of the Wild's stew, lingering in her tongue) and choke herself to death by pigging out on it, maybe. What she totally didn't expect to run into were Loghain's lapdogs, accusing them for the King's death and informing them of their scattered lies throughout Ferelden. She was almost too happy to beat their faces to a pulp and send them packing with a message for Loghain. A Chantry sister, who forcibly helped them, demanded to come with for reasons of a vision. Morrigan and Alistair shared their disfavors, but Ophelia only granted her wish, even without an elaboration, due to exhausted exasperation – _and because she was kind of cute_. They switched introductions and identified her name to be Leliana, a bard from Orlais.

Not too long after their second quarrel in town, and minor break, they went ahead to do some more benevolent errands – which Ophelia said she required to burn calories and gain several silvers in the process. Alistair and Leliana were easily glad to help. The mage, on the other hand, threw a few scoffs here and there before she did as she was told.

On the way to their next assignment, they encountered a caged Qunari by the name of Sten, who murdered a family, including the children. Funnily, Morrigan suggested to free him out of mercy. Not simplistic to set him at liberty, Ophelia asked him to compensate for his crimes by helping them against the Blight. The gigantic man settled for her offer, and she acquired the necessary permission for his freedom.

What was a party of three, plus dog, was now a party of five, plus dog.

[-]

_But if stars, shouldn't shine,_  
 _By the very first time,_  
 _Then dear it's fine, so fine by me,_  
 _'Cause we can give it time,_  
 _So much time,_  
 _With me._

[-]

Evening was finally at hand. During their excursions in and around Lothering, they managed to eradicate the rest of the troublesome bandits, rid the town of bears and spiders, and report a woman's death.

They were back at the refuge's crowded bar and ate supper together at a large table. Initially, Morrigan and Sten were reluctant to conform and join them, but after a little persuasion, they took their seats. Ophelia used this opportunity for a time to know each other and did so with the help of purchased liquor. Alistair seemed to be having a man conversation with Sten, while the women chatted on the opposite edge – with Leliana doing most of the talking.

"I'm wondering Morrigan... Do you believe in the Maker?" Leliana asked, curious.

Morrigan stirred her food for no apparent goal, looking somewhere else, "Certainly not. I've no primitive fear of the moon such that I must place my faith in tales so that I may sleep at night," then she devoured a spoonful, avoiding eye contact.

"But this can't all be an accident. Spirits, magic, all these wondrous things around us both dark and light," Leliana pushed, eyeing Morrigan studiously.

Not to be dislodged, Morrigan retorted, "The fact of their existence does not presuppose an intelligent design by some absentee father-figure."

"So it is all random, then? A happy coincidence that we are all here?" she tried for a second time.

The witch described pragmatically, "Attempting to impose order over chaos is futile. Nature is, by its very nature, chaotic."

"I don't believe that. I believe we have a purpose. All of us." A hopeful air emitted from Leliana.

And the air rapidly got vacuumed away. "Yours, apparently being to bother me."

When the talkative woman figured she was being disregarded, she looked at Ophelia, "What about you, Ophelia? Surely you believe in the Maker."

"Of course," Ophelia uttered seriously, "I believe in our father's testicles," then she imbibed a mouthful of wine.

Leliana leaned in, unconvinced of what she heard, "Our father's wha–––?" dumbfounded, she sunk into her chair, giggling quite irrepressibly, "Why I've never even thought of it that way!"

A swift chuckle also escaped from Morrigan, "Now _that_ is a more tangible Maker to give credence, if there ever happened to be a parallel dimension where I revered in one." She stopped scrutinizing her plate and glimpsed at the woman beside her who made the comment. What she caught her doing reignited the intensifying dislike she held for the comedian, "Stop looking at my breasts like that. 'Tis _most disturbing_!"

Ophelia propped on an elbow as her eyes remained on her milky bosom, visualizing, "But they're so bare… So… Exposed. Are you positive you're not asking for it?"

"You are a very _ODD_ woman!" Cut off garments became hastily adjusted after a glare and subtle blush from its wearer.

"They are nice breasts, I will admit," Leliana joked on their leader's other side, laughing. But then an arm was draped around her shoulders, pulling her.

"You think so too, do you?" Ophelia smirked coquettishly as she faced her. Her breath tickled the recipient, whose head was turned by extended slender fingers.

The red head was captivated by the dreamy icicle stare, "Yes–why?"

An inch closer and she was inhaled by a straight nose, " _Mmm_... You're adorable, Leliana." Then she received a peck on the lips; a short but firm peck.

_It had been short, so why could she still feel her dark painted lips on hers?_

She was, again, dumbfounded – this time, with her mouth agape. Ophelia simply observed her with an amused smile while every presence, that witnessed the act, gawked at them, waiting for more.

_What happened?_

_Those beautiful eyes…_

_Did she like her?_

_Those plump lips that daunted, and now heartened…_

_Was it just out of enjoyment?_

_Her perplexingly seducing fragrance that by some means endured the day…_

_Why was she so capricious?_

_Mmmmmm…_

Nearby, Morrigan's eyebrows crumpled deeply as she inspected them, eyes wide. She was bothered. And baffled. Then mad. Then maddeningly baffled. _The woman was unfathomable!_

[-]

_If you want me,_  
 _Let me know,_  
 _Where do you wanna go,_  
 _No need for talking,_  
 _I already know,_  
 _If you want me,_  
 _Why go._

[-]

_SWHOOSH–––!_

"Damn it, Sten!" the scoundrel clad with dark red medium armor dropped low with a single bent knee in an effort to dodge a heavy double-handed sword that sliced horizontally over her. The metallic shine of the blade cast a gleam on her face as her eyes followed its swipe. She succeeded, only by a hair, and she renewed her posture rather deftly, "We agreed I'm a woman! Be gentle!"

In spite of her warning, the stoic continued with his mighty swings. Her quick feet two-stepped each evasion, twisting her body effortlessly as she sped up her pace. She trod backwards as he pressed forwards, offensive. Her gaze was steadfast on the man, regardless of the strength of his brute force attacks that nearly divided her into fractions.

The grass they fought on became messy – mainly thanks to Sten's continuous assaults that failed. His controlled countenance was slowly dissipating, whereas Ophelia's was resilient. Her two prominent tresses hung loose over her sharp visage and swayed attractively with her movements.

"Why do you run?" the larger fighter barked wearily after he discerned he had been missing every strike for a prolonged amount of time.

The rogue _could've_ just ran circles around him, had she found it more amusing. "Who's running?" she leaped.

_CRASH!_

A boulder cracked into fragments from an upright diagonal swing, trapping his weapon – which two nimble boots landed and put a burden on.

_Tock–!_

Ophelia flicked a small rock she caught, directly in between his eyes, "Looks like I win."

Sten stumbled back and clutched his forehead momentarily, "But you haven't drawn your weapon."

"Alas, did you prefer I flung my dagger unto your head instead? The difference in execution is minuscule, I promise you," she grinned victoriously as she tried to seize his claymore, struggling at that. "This sword… Must be… Heavier than I am!" she huffed.

_The Grey Warden was fragile. Easily breakable. If he had planted one solid hit on her, she could be dead._

He orbited around and peacefully withdrew his blade from the pile of stones, "This adds to my confusion. You are incredibly weak, yet somehow a formidable opponent." They sternly stared each other down for what felt like a whole minute. Faraway, muted chuckles could be perceived. "I still don't know what to make of you."

[-]

Alistair and Leliana clapped from the sidelines as Ophelia approached them, cool and composed. Nutella woofed and rolled on the ground, inspired.

"What a great fight!" the Templar complimented ecstatically, "I almost peed myself watching you dodge all those incoming blows, one after another!" He sighed with relief, "Glad I didn't, I knew you'd be _oh~kay_."

"Yes, you did wonderful! Oh, but I was so scared for you! Why did you have to let his swings get that close?" the bard probed, her face wrinkled with mild worry.

"Thank you, truly, so much," the blonde head bowed professionally as if the audience was plenty. "And Leliana, you should know that suspense is essential for drama in the art of battle. I wouldn't want to bore everyone."

"But you're absolutely amazing… I don't think that's possible," Leliana simpered, flirtatious.

Alistair looked away, trying not to look depressed from realization of his favorite Warden being completely gay.

Ophelia smiled pleasantly for some seconds to acknowledge her praise, before she glanced for the rest, "Anyway, how are your tents? Need help with anything?"

"Not I," Sten spoke from behind her as he eventually caught up, "Mine is stable. I'll be inside," then he hurriedly disappeared.

"Yea… Not me either," the other Grey Warden went and parted his tent covers, "Welp, it's been a fun evening. I'm going to sleep too, good night," then he climbed in and closed them.

"Mine's okay, I guess. Uhm, so..." Leliana tucked strands of hair under an ear, nervous, "Where will you be setting up your tent?" she swayed a tad with her question.

"I haven't decided, really," Ophelia answered frankly.

_Was she crushing on her, already?_

"I see... I'll see you in the morning then," and the Orlesian faded into her tent, peeping at her sweetly for the last time, "Sweet dreams."

The Mabari crawled to stained boots, sleepy, "Come then, Nutella, I have one last stop before I set up my own tent." The war dog whined. "Or you can stay and sleep here, if you like."

[-]

_I can give it all on the first date,_  
 _I don't have to exist outside this place,_  
 _And dear know that I can change._

[-]

Morrigan busted out of her tent once she heard what could be a disturbance. Unfortunately, it was far worse than what she imagined.

Ophelia was assembling her tent.

"Did you not develop the impression that I wished to be left alone by constructing my camp remote from you _imbeciles_? For such a cunning woman, you are such an _inexplicable_ _FOOL_!" she growled in an escalating soprano as she confronted her with a malicious mien and intimidating stance.

_There will be a fucking storm tonight, with lightning, thunder, and hail._

Ophelia advanced onto her, as tranquil as a Tranquil, "With that type of animosity, Morrigan, you'll invite the darkspawn sooner than later." She shifted her weight on her rearmost leg and raised a hand above a hip, nonchalant.

"Ah!" the witch giggled sardonically, "So you plan to become my neighbor to protect me – is that your intent?" She didn't provide a chance for a response, "Well, _you_ – whore of a Warden – have miscalculated. I am perfectly capable of defending myself," and she thrust a pointing finger at her shoulder. " _Move_ your tent, unless you desire a demonstration."

The Warden didn't budge but snickered, "Actually, Morrigan, it's rather the contrary. I want _you_ to protect _me_ , because I trust that you are, indeed, the only one sagacious enough to do so." As instant as she played it happily, her face transformed into significance, "Morrigan, I am genuinely concerned for you. You have singled yourself out by isolating your camp. Anything or anyone can easily abduct you short of our notice. Skill or no skill––Precaution. Is. Best."

They shared a focused rivet as Morrigan breathed gradually to a calm. Golden globes held a dimming fire while full moons glimmered with ensnaring sanctuary. When Ophelia established her point to be taken, she blinked and swerved back to her work without a word.

The dark haired contemplated the diplomat's compelling words, and suddenly felt that she had been the immature one. Life out of the Korcari Wilds was utterly new to her, and she mistook their leader's aims as a simple way to aggravate her. She was too used to solitude and overlooked her own safety for selfish reasons. She had never slept alone in the Wilds. At least, if she did, Flemeth had the eyes of an unearthly being. And now that she journeyed with people who have bounty on their heads, she would be safer accompanied.

Unable to be stubborn any longer, she progressed to her neighbor's tent and exhaled for recognition upon arrival, "You are, indefinitely, an enigma. 'Tis difficult to explain, but I am disgusted by you just as much as I am fascinated by you."

Ophelia finished up with her architecture and watched her, engaging and inquiring. She stood but remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I know about the deal you composed with the obnoxious Chantry woman. Did you honestly consider that I would not see past your ignorant playacting?" Morrigan stated, softer and not offensively, then concealed a gulp, "But what you displayed there was clever and resourceful. People are willing to be influenced by you and follow you, an obvious cause for how several more we are, currently. And, not to mention, that fine performance this evening."

"Hmm… I dare say that this is a side I never expected from you, not one bit," the rogue modeled a faint smile, "Thanks."

"Nevertheless, you are still sickening – kissing a bard you barely even met. How crude. And also, gaze at my breasts, no more," the mage rebuked, easily nullifying her former commendations.

Ophelia snorted gracefully, "Okay." _Not in a brazen manner, anyway._ "Henceforth, you'll let me stay without dispute?"

"So long as you do not snore like a drunken glutton, I suppose I can tolerate your contiguous company," the dark head showed lenience with a once-over.

"Good to hear. I couldn't snore if I tried," Ophelia twinkled with delight, "You know… If you were formerly opposed to me building my tent next to yours – we could share yours, if you'd like."

"Not in this lifetime, philanderer."

[-]

_But if stars, shouldn't shine,_  
 _By the very first time,_  
 _Then dear it's fine, so fine by me,_  
 _'Cause we can give it time,_  
 _So much time,_  
 _With me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song
> 
> "Stars" by The XX (Recommended: LAZRtag Remix)


	2. Chances

It felt hot. Incredibly hot. In fact, there was steam coming off the gravel. No, it seemed more like fumes; it suffocated. Lungs stiffened and breathing became torturous.

_Where… What was this place?_

Onwards, wary feet marched farther, past heaps and heaps of rocks. They kept moving with no particular destination. Then they climbed, higher and steeper. Hands gripped rough and heated boulders when balance was difficult to achieve. The physical activity grew problematic once the slope became exactly vertical. _But there was no turning back._  
  
Fingers exerted a reach for the final protruding rock, leading to higher ground. They succeeded, and feet claimed their stand. At a cliff, eyes enlarged upon their discovery. Below, there was darkspawn everywhere, thousands of them, growling and cheering for something overhead.

Faraway, a mighty and loud roar reverberated, beyond the darkspawn, and unto a heart which raced recklessly. Trembling hands desperately clutched at it to help ease the agony. As soon as a pained scream escaped from the mouth, fire breathed out from another. _From the archdemon._ It hit the cliff where the screamer stood and caused her to fall into scorching lava.

"OPHELIA!"

It felt hot. Incredibly hot. In fact, there was a raging wall of fire surrounding her. No, it seemed more like a whole house was on fire and she was trapped inside; it suffocated. Lungs stiffened and coughing became torturous.

_No, please… Not this again… She couldn't have…_

Onwards, her wary feet marched farther, past heaps and heaps of bodies. She kept moving towards the voice who called her. Then she gradually crawled, lower and dying. She pressed firmly on a splintery and bloody wooden floor in an effort to gain back her standing balance. The physical activity grew problematic once the floor shook to, perhaps, collapse. _But she could finally just die..._

Her fingers exerted a reach for something to hold onto if she fell. She failed and sank to the lower level with loud thuds. At the bottom, on top of a lifeless body that broke her fall, her eyes enlarged upon their discovery. Through a door, stood a woman, only the woman, stunned in grave worry as she found her daughter.

Her mother's call reverberated, beyond the fire, and unto her heart which raced recklessly. When she got in arms grasp, trembling hands desperately clutched at her small bloodied head then cradled it to her chest. As soon as a question escaped from her mother's mouth, nothing came out of hers. _Because of guilt._ Her mother repeated concerned words while she froze, looking at nothing. So she strained to remember what transpired, but it was too much, causing her to faint limp in her arms.

"Ophelia…!" "Oh, thank the Maker…" "What happened?" "My child, you must've been terrified…" "You're covered in blood…" "Please, tell me what happened." "But thank the Maker, you're unharmed…"

_"Mother… I'm so… So sorry..."_

[-]

It was following Lothering that they journeyed to Redcliffe in a course of two days. During the interval, Ophelia had a horrible nightmare which she then discussed with Alistair. _The first half, anyway._ He informed her that it was a direct result from becoming a Grey Warden, a way to hear the archdemon talk to the darkspawn. Thus, she mentally prepared herself for more; _but hoped it wouldn't include her past._

Even with the bitter memories of her childhood and the disaster at Highever, Ophelia retained her persistent quirky nonchalance. She was definite on her role, and she focused primarily on accomplishing it. Additionally, she cared for those she traveled with and made an effort to learn about them in order to boost their morale, when the time came that it would prove necessary.

Alistair was born as an illegitimate son to Maric, meaning he was a possible heir to the currently vacant throne. Sten went berserk after losing his sword (something Qunari warriors considered as their soul) and so he killed a family out of panic, but waited on his own accord to be punished. Leliana's mother was Fereldan, but she was born in Orlais. Once her mother died, she was cared for by an Orlesian noble whom her mother served. Ophelia could sense that she refrained from speaking more about topics which could lead to why she left Orlais, and so, she stopped probing to respect her privacy.

Out of all her followers, it was Morrigan that intrigued her the most. True, she obviously thought her attractive, but it was more complicated than that. She loved her sharp wit and humor, regardless if it was meant or not. The sorceress also proved to be a strong woman, able to fend for herself without anyone's aid. Moreover, she had a feeling they had something inconspicuous in common; and she was determined to figure it out.

Morrigan left the wilds, once, as a child. She sneaked and stole a golden mirror she admired, but it was smashed by Flemeth soon afterwards. With that story, Ophelia uncovered a spark of innocence in her bright golden eyes. She analyzed her further as they conversed with personal topics (and she was glad she was indulged.) The slight change of tone, the slight hesitation to continue, the slight deterring gaze... The witch portrayed a tough walled exterior, but the rogue knew better, and she slowly began to chip away at it.

[-]

A small wildflower's fiery white petals swayed subtly with the wind and radiated a lively shine, thanks to the morning sun.

But then an imposing shadow gradually blanketed it with darkness, killing its show. Subsequently, a slimy wet fluid dropped on one of its petals and hung to it like glue. The yellow fangs, that released the saliva, were centimeters from impaling it.

"Nutella, no!" Ophelia pulled the mentioned hound by his collar then scolded him nicely on one knee, "Flowers are only a delicacy for people like me. Okay? Eating this might make you feel sick. And guess who would have to clean up after you? Me."

The Mabari whined sorrowfully and slumped on the ground as his owner tried to soothe him.

"Sorry, boy," she petted his short fur some more before gazing upon the plant. "Plus, this flower looks rare..." then she plucked it by the stem, "And pretty."

Nutella rose up and sniffed at it, tempted.

"Who do you think would appreciate a beautiful thing such as this?" she questioned her dog, and he barked suggestively in response. "Who? Morrigan?" another bark, but with more enthusiasm, "Mehh..." Her blonde head cocked low to a side, in doubt, "I don't think Morrigan likes this type of thing. Furthermore, she's not too keen on my advances."

He dropped and cried again, brown paws over his puppy face.

"Yea, I like her too..."

[-]

_You, you saw right through,_  
 _That's, that's when I knew,_  
 _That I, I wanted you,_  
 _But you, you called it too soon,_  
 _You, you saw right through,_  
 _You, you saw right through._

[-]

"Flowers, for me? Oh, they're beautiful!" Leliana grabbed the flowers handed to her and admired it with a finger. Her eyes sparkled with gratitude as she smiled.

"You recognize them? Andraste's Grace, correct?"

"Yes. These were my mother's favorite. I haven't seen these in such a long time. They smell just like she used to," she took a whiff for emphasis, "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Ophelia said out of plain sincerity; yet the red head remained with her frisky stare.

Nutella woofed excitedly when he saw someone else was approaching their spot in the middle of the congested Chantry. It was Morrigan and, by the looks of her, she was annoyed – _well, she looked that way most of the time._

"Hey Morrigan, bumped into anything useful?" the ponytailed Warden inquired, while Leliana removed her coy demeanor in her turn to face the mage.

"A spineless dwarf, more like," Morrigan gave the bard a quick once-over, then explained to their leader, "Though, with a little intimidation, I forced him to grow one. He should now be well-equipped to assist against the attacks."

Ophelia smirked proudly for her companion, "Great job. I told you, you would be able to find something."

"Hmph…" Morrigan didn't enjoy doing errands, not out of her laziness but because of its pointlessness. An hour ago, Ophelia instructed them to hunt for anything or anyone that could help the village for an upcoming battle. _It was futile. Surely, the responsibility for the night's success hanged completely on their shoulders._

Heavier footsteps drew near their spot at a pace that was unexpectedly familiar; and it was Alistair, with a boy. They watched him as he arrived, eyebrows slanting for an explanation.

"Look who I found?" he presented the boy who stayed quiet.

"A friend who can endure your dumb questions?" The query sounded more like a statement out of Morrigan's lips.

" _Haha~_ I do try to find some, sometimes," he performed a sarcastic chuckle, "But no, this is Bevin. The boy that girl was crying about a while ago. You remember?" His eyes turned to Ophelia's direction.

Ophelia grinned at Morrigan's comment, "Well, at least he has one." She received the usual giggle of agreement from the bard then the usual glare from the witch, but avoided it by answering Alistair, "And yes, Kaitlyn. Let's go see her now."

They retraced their steps to the woman and Bevin ran towards her before they could get to her. The united siblings mumbled their contentment until Ophelia cleared her throat, by which the older sister eventually regarded their presence.

"I didn't think you would actually stay true to your word." Kaitlyn held an earnest gaze for the blonde woman. "I can't possibly repay you."

"That's okay. You can just give Alistair a kiss or something; he was the one who found Bevin, after all." Ophelia gestured for the Templar.

"I… I suppose there's no harm in it," Kaitlyn surmised.

"Uhm, no," he scratched the back of his neck for an excuse, "I'm good. Thanks though." _That woman and her silly ideas…_

Ophelia protracted a sigh then announced simply, "Fine, I'll take the kiss in his place."

"What?" three women vocalized in harmony. The first surprisingly puzzled. The second disappointedly puzzled. The third irritatingly and disappointedly puzzled.

"You heard me. I'm ready," she winked, then tilted her head to accept a kiss – and the kiss was acquired with a noticeable smack of the lips.

Kaitlyn withdrew with a visible blush on her cheeks, "I… Oh my…" _Oh my, indeed._ "Stay… Stay safe tonight. And good luck."

[-]

_I was happy to know you, baby,_  
 _Now you ask me what you ask me, baby,_  
 _Who can explain?_  
 _I was happy to know you, baby,_  
 _Follow closely, try to find me,_  
 _Find me, baby._

[-]

Sten, after a long wait, rendezvoused with them the moment he caught sight of some oil barrels that could be used in the fight. Together, they proceeded towards a locked house which Owen, a drunken smith who refused to help them with armor repairs for the Redcliffe militia, lived in. Ophelia had been doing her utmost to negotiate nicely without further distress for the sniveling man – and intended to preserve it that way.

Although, it was tougher than it would seem.

"You are asking a great deal, you wretched little man," Morrigan complained with her trademarked raised corner of her upper lips.

"I want a promise. Promise me that you'll look for her, that you'll bring her back to me if you can," the anguished man pleaded a search for her lost daughter.

"I'll do my best," Ophelia stated fairly.

"Oh, lovely. Shall we next begin rescuing kittens from trees?" the complainer suggested, sarcastically.

"If it's on the way…" Ophelia shrugged, "Why not?"

"Is this a promise we will not keep?" Sten spoke.

Morrigan dreamed with him, "Let's hope not."

"What's this?" Owen interjected.

"I said nothing to you, human," the Qunari contended.

" _Oh~kay!_ We're done here," Ophelia laughed lightly to prevent the impending wrangle or suicide. She had successfully persuaded the man to do repairs with a measly promise and they could have effortlessly made him change his mind. "See you when we see your daughter, then," she shooed her team then herself out of the smith's house hurriedly. Outside, she exhaled loudly, "You guys give me a headache sometimes, seriously," then she advanced ahead of them, without a prompt for their next task. _She was clearly somewhat dissatisfied._

This was the only time their great leader ever showed discernible displeasure, and they were a bit taken aback by it. She always gave the impression that _nothing_ bothered her. Most of them started to wonder if she had been upset before, but just kept to herself. _Then again, this wasn't that big of a deal. Was it? Did she possess an unusual disorder?_

They gawped at each other for some time before they finally trailed where she went – the tavern.

[-]

_I gave you my chances, chances,_  
 _You gave me your answers, answers,_  
 _I gave you my chances, chances,_  
 _You gave me answers, answers,_  
 _Why?_

[-]

At last, the village was set. Ophelia squeezed every ounce of resource she could gather and boosted the troops' spirits as best she could. She was certain she had all the capable men that could fight at their disposal; she even persuaded a pub owner to join with their defense.

The moon glowed luminously above nervous, frantic knights and militia men at the windmill and Chantry, respectively. They already had their unlimited ale, 'holy' amulets, and the Grey Wardens by their side, yet they sustained their fretful bearings. On the other hand, her group held no fear and was actually rather excited for some action. _They won't fail and tonight will be the end of the attacks._

She took the forefront at the windmills with Sten, Alistair, and Nutella near the lit oil barrels and delegated Morrigan and Leliana to keep their range from behind.

"Shouldn't you be with the other women at the rear?" Sten quizzed, his great sword gripped tightly at an angle.

Alistair added, "Yea… Not to offend, but you're not _exactly_ meat shield material," he raised his shield to a cover and adjusted his clutch on his long sword.

"If you boys keep whining, I'll make you switch places with them," she unsheathed her daggers and twirled them once while taking an aggressive stance, "Trust me, I'll take care of you."

The earth rumbled and clouds of dust began to envelope their vision. She could hear the horde of walking dead corpses trudge closer, and she hushed everyone to be quiet.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Alistair tried to object with a shouted whisper as the other Grey Warden wandered into the fog.

Ophelia shushed him with a finger on her lip then disappeared from view. He shared a startled look with Sten then shook his head. _What in Andraste's name was wrong with her_? Not a minute later, they could hear someone running towards them and they readied their weapons.

"BY MY FATHER'S BALLS!" it was Ophelia, who carried an exaggerated traumatized expression as she sprinted past Alistair. "The ugly sons of bitches are coming!" she lured the undead who chased her in a line.

"Of course they are! Wasn't that clear from the dust and the tremor?" he bellowed: "MORRIGAN WAS RIGHT! YOU ARE A _MADWOMAN_!" while they slashed away at the burning monsters in consecutive strikes.

" _LA~LA~LA~LA~LA~LA~_ "

[-]

"I admit, for a while I didn't think either of us would survive. It's good to see you did," Ophelia was greeted by a barmaid by the name of Bella.

"Don't I get a hero's welcome?" she bit her lower lip in a coquettish smugness.

"You? Why I… I've never kissed a girl before," Bella giggled, "Possibly. What kind of tip do I get out of it?"

Ophelia leaned in for a husky murmur to her ear, "I have a sovereign with your name on it."

"Ha! Keep your money," Bella positioned her hands on either side of her face, "I'll make an exception this once," then she shamelessly kissed her quite deeply.

The men neighboring their places at the bar cheered for their show, and some just gawked speechlessly. Morrigan happened to be watching them from her place by the exit door, eyes narrowed. _Her second pursuit of the day, how unappealing…_

She spoke aloud when their joyous spectacle was done, "Kissing serving wenches, now? Perhaps you intend to roll around in the nearest pig pen, as well?"

Ophelia turned and observed Morrigan, "I will…" Then she turned back to Bella, "With Bella. Am I right?"

They laughed noisily and continued to chat, unaffected by the hate they received. Morrigan couldn't stop her eyes from rolling over the maximum opposite degree as they dismissed the topic. Right when she decided to move and leave the tavern, Leliana stepped in.

She chuckled irritably, "Hmm… Funny you weren't here. Your girlfriend over there has been kissing every filthy slattern in Redcliffe while you were away."

"My _girlfriend_?" Leliana crooked a brow. She honestly had no idea what she meant for a second, then she had an epiphany, and her eyes rummaged the crowd for Ophelia.

There she was – shoving her tongue down a servant's throat, practically having her way with her over the counter. The men roared in thunderous praise and applause at the same time Leliana's heartbeat elevated in paramount bewilderment.

[-]

_Changing letters, changing patterns,_  
 _I can change 'til you don't matter,_  
 _Changing borders, changing patterns,_  
 _I can change 'til you don't matter._

[-]

Ophelia was on schedule with her nightly heart-to-heart involving each of her companions. Second to last was Leliana, and the bard anticipated her arrival with a minor grimace.

"You… You kissed that girl at the bar."

"Hmm?" Ophelia subconsciously kicked a harmless pebble before she granted her an appropriate answer, "OH. You mean Bella. She's cute. Don't you think?"

The red head jumped as she kind of snapped in frustration, "No!" then she asserted sheepishly, "I mean… I thought you liked me… Was it just an illusion?"

The Warden's brows lifted, "What…? You seriously thought…" She displayed a bewildered aspect and made gestures as she explained, "Wow. Leliana… I'm so sorry… It was simple peck on the lips. All of its meaningless flattery, you should know by now."

Leliana stifled a scowl from forming, "Yes... Now, I understand," then she stifled her voice from shaking, "And… It's okay, I guess. I just… I must have really looked like a gullible fool." The ends of her lips arched upwards to hide her disappointment.

Ophelia put a hand on her shoulder, as if to ease her mild heartache, "Don't get me wrong... You truly are sweet and adorable." They traded a feeble smile, "I'm not looking for a relationship, though. It's all fun and games… And having a good time…" She kept her eyes on her, to see if she understood, then she implied under her breath, "But if you want to play… I'm game."

"Oh, no thank you. I'm fine," Leliana tittered.

"You'll be okay? No hard feelings?" Ophelia offered an innocent hug.

"Yes. No hard feelings," and Leliana accepted it. What could, hence, be a limited act between them, she stole the opportunity and saturated herself with her mesmerizing aroma, eyes shut securely––––––––––––––––then she sensed a smooth hand squeeze at her butt.

_Lady-killer…_

[-]

_I was happy to know you, baby,_  
 _Now you ask me what you ask me,_  
 _Who can explain?_  
 _I was happy to know you, baby,_  
 _Follow closely, try to find me,_  
 _Find me, baby._

[-]

On her way to Morrigan's tent, Ophelia realized there was no tent or Morrigan to be found. She scanned the zone surrounding her to check if she relocated her tent farther. But there was no immediate sign of the witch anywhere. Thus, she reverted back to where they last conversed together as a group near the bonfire and investigated there.

She called Nutella over and asked him to find Morrigan's scent on the grass. The dog happily assisted her as she kneeled on her knees and crawled on all fours to look for her weightless footprints. They found what she was sure were Morrigan's and followed it, until they reached the beginning of a forest and the woman's tracks could no longer be distinguished. She bent over and examined what might've happened, then remembered her shape shifting abilities and eventually discovered a wolf's paw prints. _She was seriously being discreet._ Where stealth was essential, she sent her Mabari back to the campsite and told him to howl if Morrigan were to return by herself.

Inside the thickening jungle, she moseyed slowly and avoided any step that crunched. It was eminently dark, but with any amount of light from the astral ceiling, her eyes adapted well enough to suit her need. _What could she conceivably be up to?_ She continued onwards, past thick, thin, short, and tall trees. Sometimes, her boots skipped over puddles, her gloved hands propped on trees' trunks for support, and her hawk eyes double-checked where she derived from. Her heartbeat sped up as her mind brainstormed. _Was she hiding something? Was she plotting against her? Was she going to betray her? Was she leaving her?_ But she reserved a peaceful mien, because she knew she would find her and find answers.

Then, the woods gained some outside illumination. Then substantial illumination. Then profuse illumination. Then a final end to the woods. With it, she located where Morrigan was. The dark haired woman stood about the edge of a cliff, basking under the moon's glow, rendering her in plain sight; whereas Ophelia was hidden from inside the forest.

The mage's bare back was to her, and she noted how modestly toned they were. And for a flutter in her stomach, her hands twitched to feel its softness... And for a sharp intake of breath, her nose itched to be buried amidst her ear and generous neck... And for a skipped heartbeat, her lips quivered to be pressed upon her pulse.

The fair-skinned woman seemed to revel at the landscape presented for her. The millions of stars, the moon in its whole, the sleeping saved village, the quiet castle, and the expanding lake that glittered with sparkles. The spot she settled on could've once been occupied by an artist who painted the scene. It was beautiful. _Like her._

For a while, Ophelia hesitated to approach her. She could stay there, forever ogling her in the shadows. But the logical part of her brain refused, and she claimed a step forwards.

"You should have shifted to a bird. They're more challenging to follow. Wolves are pretty easy to track."

Morrigan closed her eyes momentarily upon hearing her voice – _impressive, as always_ – and her lips twisted slightly in humor, "Not that being followed by you was a concern in the first place," and she faced her, "but why have you tracked me?"

"I was checking to make sure you weren't leaving..." Ophelia progressed to her, boots clicking faintly on dirt ground.

"Believe me, 'tis been thought about. Recently, in fact. 'Twas my former plan for coming here in solitude," Morrigan sighed in tribute to her frustration then declared, "The band of fools you're conducting sure is worthy enough reason to. And you–" she was interrupted.

"I apologize if you feel outnumbered sometimes. Though, you do open yourself up for it," the taller woman claimed sincerely as she halted in front of her, "However, you should know, what I said earlier was a mere joke. I can be a friend of yours, if you'd allow it."

The witch chuckled, "'Tis not simply apropos your words."

"Yes, yes. My goals and yours don't always coincide. That's why..." Ophelia retrieved a golden rope necklace from a hidden pocket, "Here... To reward you for putting up with me," then she retrieved Morrigan's hand and forcibly placed it on her palm.

"A necklace? Resorting to bribery now, are you?" Morrigan's hand was released and she scrutinized the piece of jewelry with her touch. Her fingers roamed over its delicate gold strands, twisted together in a thick rope. _It wasn't cheap, rest assured._ Her eyes lit with adoration, "Well... 'Tis certainly beautiful."

"I like you, Morrigan. And I don't want you to leave," Ophelia confessed in a lower tone, "I believe we have much to learn from each other. Plus, I do enjoy your company..." She straightened her posture and made sure she got the desired attention. "But, in any case, how I run things won't change. As much as it aggravates you, I can only promise that I can make it worth your while," she firmly uttered her compensation.

"I..." Morrigan's eyes stared at the necklace fleetingly, as if to find a correct answer, "Alright..." She brought her golden globes back up then prolonged her pronunciation in lenient irritation, "… _I will stay_ …"

"Thank you."

"Although, what I meant to say preceding your proposal was..." she frolicked with the item while she beheld her, "I sensed your disapproval of my actions as well. You and I are mutually annoyed of one another. And our journey had only begun... Presently, you condone my impetuous criticisms. But I predict that the future will provide for some heated arguments, pertaining me specifically. I thought it best that I just leave to save us both the trouble."

Ophelia was silent for a moment and took a seat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling loosely as she reclined with both arms. She admired the full moon's brilliance before she finally replied, "Morrigan... You should relax and let me handle everything. Whether you agree or not, I guarantee that someday – you will realize that the world isn't so black and white."

"Oh?" Morrigan remained behind her, pondering for a split second. Unable to counter properly, she asked, "So you've made it your ambition to change my beliefs, by continuing to drag me with this little group of yours?"

"Not necessarily," Ophelia's gaze fell on the village's weak candle lights, "Nonetheless... Let's be honest, you haven't seen life out of the Korcari Wilds and your tight upbringing leaves you with little imagination, Morrigan. Give me a chance."

 _She had some nerve challenging her intellect. But damn it, the babbling jester was kind of correct_. The sorceress ambled to her side, still standing, "Fair enough. But from what I've noticed, you are not a beacon of all-knowing light, either. And my mother's teachings are not to be nullified swimmingly; she is the Flemeth, after all. Unfortunately, you will find that my beliefs will be hard to sway."

Ophelia snickered submittingly, "Yea, I know. Though, your consideration for my only attempting is a definite good start, agreed?" She gazed from below her, asking for clarification.

"'Tis not a thing to brag about. I am merely being 'friendly,' as you say."

"So we _are_ friends?" her white teeth beamed brightly as she teased, "I presume that sharing a bedroll with you won't be too far from now."

Morrigan scoffed, arms crossed, "Not going to happen. Especially since you have probably slept with half the women you've met and have a contagious disease lurking around your genitals."

" _Ouch~!"_ Ophelia's mouth fell open, thunderstruck, "That stings… Despite the fact that that's hardly achieved through lesbian sex…" she snickered with a tongue out, mockingly, "And we shall see. I don't give up that easily…" then she playfully licked her lips – more sloppy stupid playful than seductive playful, but it was intentional. "Anyway, you do consider me as a friend now… Right?"

Morrigan couldn't help but throw a smile back at her banter. _Such a charming woman. If she had been a he…_ Then she sat down adjacent to her, their positions almost identical except she was upright, "Being friendly and being a friend have two different meanings."

Their eyes constricted together in an amiable vice, "So… You're thinking about being my friend, is that what?"

"Close."

"Err… Can I know why? To boost my ego and such…"

" _Haha_ ~ Cute. As I've mentioned before, I am fascinated by you. I am not afraid to admit that you are intelligent. More intelligent than any woman I have yet seen. But you use it for the wrong purposes," she waved her head a little in emphasis for the last phrase, "'Tis annoying, but I cannot despise you, fully."

"Good to know. That's all the prerequisite I need to coax you into my bedroll," Ophelia laughed, "By the way, did you know, your eyes wander to my lips when you lie?" then she swayed her feet around delightfully.

Morrigan didn't stop the urge to push her off the cliff––––and the Casanova did almost fall with a shriek––––but the culprit snatched her hand in the nick of time.

Yellow cat eyes widened tremendously, "I did _not_ push you that hard!"

Ophelia was hauled up quickly and she eyed the bottom where she could've dropped and died, then she pivoted her head to gaze at her with a Cheshire's leer, "So… How scared were you?"

Morrigan's face contorted with so much scorn, it must've sucked all the rage from rage demons and abominations alike, "Your perception was _extremely_ accurate! I DID LIE! I HATE YOU _SOOO_ MUCH!" and the witch undeniably shoved her for the second time.

[-]

_I gave you my chances, chances,_  
 _You gave me your answers, answers,_  
 _I gave you my chances, chances,_  
 _You gave me your answers, answers,_  
 _Why?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song
> 
> "Paganini Rocks" by Robortom featuring Au Revoir Simone (Recommended: Extended Club Version)


	3. Change

_What I'm searching for,_  
 _To tell it straight, I'm trying to build a wall,_  
 _Walking by myself,_  
 _Down avenues that reek of time to kill._

[-]

Soft ebony tresses dangled lightly from an imaginary air that carried an eerie mist. It was foreboding, but the dark head's flat boots wandered uninterrupted on uneven mud terrain. They were familiar with these parts, even with its continuously changing levels, and they knew well where they were.

Morrigan was alone again; alone in the Fade. For some odd reason, her fondness for the feeling of solitude was not as strong as it used to be and a small part of her craved for immediate company. True, she disliked being there for what felt like an eternity and wished for a way out as soon as possible, but she also genuinely found a worry for her leader - for Ophelia. The woman had cared for her, despite their differences and her constant immoral judgment. Come hell or high water, Ophelia sincerely fought hard each day to protect everyone in her team, especially her. The rogue's alacrity to look after her bugged Morrigan to no end. Despite her harsh words to dismiss her, the help and protection was insisted. What could she have done to deserve everything she had offered? She was selfish, inconsiderate, and impolite. Not to mention, she was dispensable. _She couldn't be worth the trouble..._ Yet Ophelia was the one that sought for her to stay. Was she generally that kind to the whole world? She would never understand that woman.

The sorceress ventured farther into nothingness, hoping to get any clue for leaving the Fade. But then she sensed herself being teleported. _Blasted damnation…_

A brief hypnotizing flash and she warped into another space in the ethereal maze at a matter of seconds. She checked her body for a moment as if to make sure it was intact, and then heard a child laughing close by. Relieved that she would at least discover something new, she went onwards in search for the noisy child.

She extended a leg to skip over a large log, ducked under a protruding leafless tree branch, and parted thick, tall grass before she uncovered a hooded child in the distance – who was accompanied by another individual who unusually reminded her of a teenage version of herself. They resembled each other, in a way. She had dark hair, fair-skin, of average tallness, slender body, and... Poise.

"Okay, I'll do it right this time. Promise," the child swore, reaching for an object her older friend held away from her.

"You won't 'mistakenly' aim higher, to obviously scare an animal that caught your attention, and get one of my precious daggers stuck, thus forcing me to strenuously climb the tree and retrieve it because you're a little brat and suddenly painfully take a full day to climb that stupid thing?" the adolescent's brows crunched irritably, hand jutted angrily towards an imposing tree. Her jet black hair was ponytailed, reminiscent of Ophelia's.

"Yes! I WON'T! Now give me one, or I'm telling mom you brought me to a whorehouse!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"You know I would!" the younger girl challenged, on her tiptoes for full effect.

The older girl sneered, "Fine! Do not make me regret this decision," then she handed one dagger, its blade clenched by her fingers, handle up.

"Thank you," the kid casually grabbed it with a small head bow then turned in the direction of an 'x' marked tree. She inhaled sharply while she raised it in an angle to be flung, her complete focus pinned on the target. She exhaled then the dagger flew.

...It literally flew... ...Over the forest... ...Amongst the flock of frenzied birds... ...Into the sun's blinding glare... ...Faraway from sight...

A volcano erupted simultaneously, "WHY YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE–!"

The mischief whined incoherent noises as she was pinched by an ear and dragged shortly to be forcibly seated on a boulder.

A hand gripped at her shoulder, almost clawing, "Why do you keep doing this, Ophelia? What's gotten into you?"

"After this, you'll go back to your ugly boyfriend, won't you?" the young Ophelia accused then added a dismaying scowl. She sunk on her seat, beaten.

The gripping hand relaxed from confounded worry, "What? Are you... Jealous?"

"Ever since he came around, you've been spending less time with me," she quivered slightly, head drooping lower and lower as her eyes burnt holes through her feet.

The older girl slowly bent on one knee to meet heights then pulled the child's black hood down, exposing the innocent face of the short haired blonde girl.

The unnamed teenager cupped her tiny head and forcibly beheld her gaze. Her bronze irises softened, glazed with unconditional love for her troublesome friend. But then as soon as Ophelia's irises moved to meet her, she hesitated and shut them tightly. Her forehead wrinkled in desperate effort then the other girl gradually disintegrated, fading until she vanished.

Morrigan's lips parted in substantial surprise. _She distinguished it was a dream?_ A few seconds later, she advanced unto her spot, carefully stepping on the grass to not disturb her meditative state. In front of the frozen child, she stopped and examined Ophelia's younger form, pondering if it was truly her.

She flinched inwardly as Ophelia's purer blue eyes unsealed in an instant, "Did you have a nightmare too?" Her youthful voice asked.

Morrigan reeled a step back. "Nightmare? For you, that was a nightmare?" she quizzed, skeptical.

"Yes," Ophelia got on her feet, her height at Morrigan's shoulder, "What happened was the beginning of the nightmare."

The mage placed an index on her puckered lips, tapping it while she contemplated, "Let me guess... Did she go back to her boyfriend, leaving you heartbroken?"

Ophelia remained indifferent. "No," she began to proclaim, then her body glowed white and transformed greatly to her current age, rendering her conclusive words with mature significance, "she stayed." Her eye lids fluttered for a second to suppress a tear that threatened to flow.

"Oh," Morrigan's expression lowered for unknown sympathy. _She must've regretted making her stay for a reason._ "Then I am sorry for... Whatever is causing you grief."

Ophelia's chin rose as she forced a smile, "Don't apologize. I'm glad you're here. To watch me cry or otherwise..."

_Her perseverance was commendable, making her worthy of her title and rank as a leader._

Morrigan didn't hesitate to join her quick recovery, "'Tis definitely unheard of. 'Twill make a great tale, I am sure."

"Amongst all the other tales - in which I am the star - that you keep a record of, you mean," the tanner woman teased, head tilted haughtily.

"Ah, yes... That vast collection, which is so incredibly vast, that it must be as vast as the void and I cannot seem to find it... Tsk. Tragic."

"Oh, darn. Couldn't you try looking past your hollow heart? Certainly, you could find something then."

If another speaking being orated those very same words or implied the very same idea, Morrigan wouldn't have second guessed throwing them into another dimension. Fortunately, it was Ophelia. And Ophelia had proven herself deserving of her forbearance.

"Haha! Witty. Pity me, you rarely ever yield," Morrigan jested sarcastically and they switched humored stares. She cringed internally as the looming gentleness in her core terrified her and hastily introduced a new topic, "Anyhow, we have much more important things to find than what's clearly inexistent nonsense. What do you suggest we do?"

Ophelia chuckled, "Inexistent nonsense…" then she sighed, "Yes. We should reunite with Wynne and Zevran, somehow. They're close, I can…" Her svelte form became hazy, "What the ~ is happening~"

As Ophelia's voice started to ripple, the witch balled her fists, "No! Not this again! I refuse!" And they were teleported once more.

[-]

_If you see me keep going,_  
 _Be a pass-by-waver,_  
 _Build me up, bring me down,_  
 _Just leave me out you name dropper,_  
 _Stop trying to catch my eye,_  
 _I see you good you forced faker,_  
 _Just make it easy,_  
 _You're my enemy you fast talker._

[-]

Soothing warm rays of sunlight stretched low, ready to welcome the upcoming nightfall, and calm clouds leisurely cleared the sky to make room for its glamorous stars. In unison, trees bristled softly with the harmless cool wind, offering shelter to the animals who seek it. These were nature's customary preparation for a wonderful evening.

Lake Calenhand's quiet water wasn't too far from an almost completed camp, occupied by chattering men and women. They scrambled around unhurriedly, busy yet at ease.

After a long day of saving what was left of the Circle of Magi, Ophelia blessed her gang a premature rest and delegated each member meticulous tasks for a grand group supper. Her friends didn't contend while she merely lounged on a wooden stool, dictating. She had earned that right for tonight, and many other nights, if demanded.

Her eyes veered for their latest recruit when she heard light footsteps and a soft-spoken voice, "Since you are clearly our leader, do you mind if I ask you something I find... Worrying?"

She stood to give her whole attention, "No, not at all. What is it, Wynne? Was it my clumsy performance against Uldred?" Her hands descended to fix her skewed belt, "That's not how I always fight, it's hard to read and chant outlandish cantos while fighting, you know."

"No. That's not quite it. You did magnificent work, saving everyone possible. Clumsy or not, I cannot thank you enough," the senior enchanter glorified with a pleased mien that only lasted for a bit, "In any case, what I am worried about is... Morrigan," she proclaimed warily. Lines of age on her skin uncovered as she explained, "I will not go into depth of how dangerous she might be, for that will take more time. The visible problem that needs to be pointed out is that... She wields a barbed tongue. I have inquired with nearly every person in our party, and most of us agree that Morrigan should watch the words that come out of her mouth, at the very least. It is not healthy for her or us." Wynne was only two and a half days old in their party, but she became an instant motherly figure, looking out for their best interests.

Ophelia recognized her concern and shifted her weight to her rearmost foot, a subtle reminder of her lax authority, "Therefore, you come to me - because you believe it is my responsibility to encourage a healthy relationship between our companions and, thusly, discourage her spiteful habit?"

Wynne nodded once, eyes hopeful, "Yes, that's spot-on. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this topic has never been brought up before, has it?"

"That's a fact," the Warden semi-sighed, "It could be because the rest didn't want to appear weak in front of me..." and she semi-snickered out of absurdity. "But I understand completely, Morrigan can be an unpleasant woman to be around and should be scolded for what she says sometimes. Now, I am not choosing sides," she momentarily rubbed a temple, somewhat hesitant to continue, "however, I have analyzed Morrigan. She's not just a bitch - excuse my language - that everyone perceives her to be."

"You have, indeed, been spending more time with her, I've heard."

"For good reasons, Wynne," she drew out a forearm, palm up next to her chest, and displayed a gesture for emphasis, "Have faith in me, I can change something in her. She's stubborn but I know she listens to me. It won't happen overnight, but I can sway her."

Wynne sympathized, "Your compassion is admirable, that is unquestionable. Although, the effort you must exert in order to mend her versus the outcome… It may not prove rewarding like you imagined. She was brought up to be that way and–"

"Which is the more reason for you to approve that she should get a second chance. Don't you think? She grew up without another's point of view. All she had were hers and her mother's. Maybe some animals, but that's regardless of what we're talking about here," Ophelia insisted, her silver orbs firm on their passionate resolve.

The old woman blinked a few times in reflection then admitted, "Alright, you are undeniably at your craft. You have persuaded me. I will hold it to you for results. Though, I hope no one should get hurt in this challenging process."

"If it comes to our safety, I will take more drastic measures, I assure you."

[-]

_I can say I hope it will be worth what I give up,_  
 _If I could stand up mean for the things that I believe._

[-]

A woman's pained moan escaped, "No~ Not there! That's-!" Her objection was interrupted by what sounded like wet skin slapping wet skin, and she prolonged a groan from both pain and pleasure.

The man who caused her delicious agony cackled sadistically, "So this is really your first time?" he chortled proudly, "Why I am truly honored! But you can take it, my lovely woman. Your body is so immaculate; it-it must be destined for this! Here comes another!"

The second skin to skin contact echoed with her scream, "HANH! Stop it you butt of an ogre! You will break me!"

"No, no, my dear. We are just getting started! It will get better!"

Third.

"Ngaah!"

Fourth.

"Feels better, yes?"

Fifth.

"Ah little~" sixth, "~hah! Yes!"

Seventh.

"HARDER!"

Eighth, and a loud crunch nearby abruptly paused their guilty festivity.

"My, my… And here I thought that you were being raped by the pintsized newcomer you so immediately trusted," Morrigan declared as she emerged from the shadows, sauntering with a predatory air about her. She halted by planting her boots solidly on the land's rocky separation from the water. She eyed the half-naked couple across the lake, disgusted, "Tsk, tsk... And your standards can still manage to get lower, it seems."

A couple of yards from where she was were the Warden and her new assassin buddy. They were both flustered and angled as if they had performed barbaric mating, heaving rhythmically for air.

Ophelia gradually caught her breath, emerged from her bent position in the serene water, and leaned on some exposed bulky stones in front of her. She held her face up to watch the dark temptress like a child with a crush, "D'aww Morrigan... You came to find me to make sure Zevran didn't finish the job?" she cocked her head to a side adorably, "How sweet."

The mage scorned, arms criss-crossing in time, "You are essential for completing our mission. Without you, our quest would come to naught," and she shook her head for importance: "Do not mistake my concern for anything more."

Zevran couldn't contain his observation and interjected, "There is no doubt, I can see it in your eyes - you are troubled." His slim physique relocated from behind Ophelia and waddled in the water to end up beside her. He smirked optimistically with a proposition, "Perhaps you would care for a massage to ease the tension in your body and mind, wild witch?"

"It's not such a bad idea, Morrigan. I'll admit, it hurt a bit at the start but–"

"But it'll have you wailing like a practiced harlot at her rapture's peak, as you've heard."

Ophelia giggled salaciously and bit her left hand's nails, downright enjoying her fake submissive role.

Morrigan's single brow rose as she retorted, "And be scarred for the remainder of my life, wondering where else those grimy hands might have been?" then it fell, "I would rather stab myself with a knife. Keep your dirty hands to your filthy self, elf."

"Oh, very well. I shall try to control where my hands land from time to time. Unless, of course," he regarded the woman beside him, "if the person is willing to receive a mind-blowing massage, hmm?"

The mischievous duo traded indifferent stares for five full seconds... Then they burst with hysterical laughter.

Yellow eyes narrowed, thin brows furrowed, fair chin wrinkled, and lip corners curved downwards. "Why did I even bother? You are a hopeless blind _fool_!"

As the total package prompted to storm away, Ophelia splashed out of the water and hollered, "Morrigan, wait!" She rushed towards her retreating form, bare feet cleverly maneuvering around pointy rocks and chips of wood.

"What?" Morrigan snapped while she was swerved involuntarily by a hand on her shoulder, her expression spelled buggered in capitals.

Ophelia's unpainted lips articulated firmly, devoid of comedy: "We need to talk."

[-]

_What am I here for,_  
 _I left my home,_  
 _To disappear is all,_  
 _I'm here for myself,_  
 _Not to know you,_  
 _I don't need no one else._

[-]

"I am not asking for you to make an apology. I am not asking for you to act like a saint. I am not asking for you to pray to the Maker for forgiveness. I am not even asking for you to sleep with me. All I ask is for you to hold your tongue on certain occasions. Nothing more," Ophelia implored as she donned on loose cream long-sleeves, matching the brown shade of her skinny leather trousers.

Morrigan chuckled mockingly, "Hold my tongue? Yes! What an excellent idea!" Her hands made a loud clap sound as she clasped them together then shook them by her face, dreamingly, "Let me just prance on over to _tongue-leash-land_ and grab a harness for my rabid tongue, because you know what?" She dropped her childish act and projected as sharp as the pointed finger she brandished, "You guessed correctly! That is precisely what 'twould take to 'hold my tongue'!"

Ophelia looked at her sideways and grinned faintly, "There are plenty of other alternatives to restrict your tongue, mind you..." She placed a foot on a tree stump to tie her boot's shoelaces, "Anyway, jokes aside, either ignore everyone and everything that annoys you and speak none of it," she concurrently glanced at Morrigan, "or try to speak without verbally assaulting or humiliating anyone."

"'Tis impossible. I am not a docile introvert, willingly hauled around aimlessly to merely watch and listen as stupidities unfold. Logical and factual thoughts come to mind and they are automatically spewed out. I reserve the right whether if 'tis intended to psychologically wound its recipient or not. These feebleminded weaklings who cannot accept the truth may bitch, moan, and whine beneath me, 'twould concern me not at all. _Hah!_ 'Twould only make me laugh."

Ophelia finished up with a minor dusting of her polished shoe, "Your merciless and blunt ice-cold demeanor sure is comical..." she realigned her posture and faced Morrigan directly, a solitary hand rested in a rear pocket, "If it wasn't a hundred percent true." _Which it wasn't._ Her twin moons endeavored to see through the impervious witch and steadily probed, "Tell me, Morrigan: if I were to point out your flaws and imperfections in the rudest most heartless manner while in the presence of an audience, how would you feel?"

"Before or after I slowly flay you alive and feed you your own skin?"

She scoffed, "Either."

Morrigan kept her stubborn apathy, "'Twould not bother me much emotionally. Unlike the pathetic crybabies you defend, I can be over it a single unfaltering heartbeat later."

Ophelia scowled inside; outside, she deliberated aloud, "I don't believe you. The same way I don't believe that you can't control your speech. Say what you will, but I believe you are capable of my advice." She shot a lasting penetrating gaze then marched past her.

"Even if I am capable of it, my persistence not to do so overcomes my capability to do so," Morrigan justified as she pivoted around, eyes tracking the blonde who quietly strode beyond. Her defense was heard, but she was ignored. _She couldn't care less if she was disappointed or hurt. Well... Maybe not physically hurt._

Bit by bit, Ophelia inaudibly disappeared into the dark of the woods. Wolves could be discerned howling miles away, tempting the shapeshifter to join them.

Silence stretched unbearably until Zevran, who eavesdropped some trees from them, relinquished the opportunity to mingle with the ignored woman by advancing beside her. He copied her distant observant stance then remarked coolly, "She likes you."

Morrigan's agitated thoughts got disrupted and she glared at him, "And? What of it?"

He tilted his head to bask under her glower and grinned, "She _really really really_ likes you."

"Hmph. Jealous much?"

He sniffed, "Yes, I am..." and he faked a tear that was wiped with a thumb, "But I approve of you..." After his overacting, he beamed his set of teeth at her, "My spicy hot woman!" he wailed his head strongly in time with his compliment, absolutely emphasizing his intense and exaggerated approval of the Witch of the Wilds.

"It may be that she desires me. But expect nothing to occur from it," she rolled her eyes then swiftly commenced for a departure without him.

" _Haha!_ " he chased the speed-walking sorceress, "Except noisy, tent-shaking, steamy love-making?"

He was now the one being ignored.

"You are speechless! The instance _has_ been considered, has it not?"

"Silence. You do not know what you speak of, foolish gnat. Leave me be."

[-]

_Fit in so good,_  
 _The hope is that you cannot see me later,_  
 _You don't know me,_  
 _I am an introvert, an excavator_  
 _I'm duckin' out for now,_  
 _A face in dodgy elevators,_  
 _Creep up and suddenly,_  
 _I found myself an innovator._

[-]

An Orlesian beef stew bubbled to a boil, granting neighboring noses a pleasant aroma with red burgundy wine as its prominent scent.

"I think it is ready," Sten observed from a distance, stomach already grumbling.

The stew was the last dish that needed to be served. Every single dish must be on the table before they ate, as Ophelia decreed, and the stew was the only entrée missing. _The stew must be done._

Leliana stopped stirring the steaming pot. "Aww, you must be starving. Hehe," there was no response, "Here, help me with this," she retrieved a large bowl and signaled for him to take it.

"Okay," the big guy progressed to claim the ceramic material with a straight face, as always.

The pair wordlessly transferred the food into the container and promptly left the cooking station to meet up with the bulk of their team at a large dining table that Ophelia borrowed from the Spoiled Princess. Alistair, Wynne, Zevran, and even Nutella sat patiently at their seats while Ophelia paced around with a map, planning.

There were nods of agreement for something Ophelia had said when Leliana gleefully announced: "Here's what everyone has been waiting for," her mitted hands put the hefty serving of beef bourguignon cautiously on the organized table.

"Ah, finally! Dinner is at hand!" Alistair rubbed his hands to show his enthusiasm.

The Qunari pulled out a large chair and situated on it, "Yes. Let us begin," he equipped eating utensils in determination to express his impatient hunger.

"Hold your horses, men. Morrigan's not in her seat yet," Ophelia commanded and there were grunts of disappointment.

"Ah, Morrigan…" the Templar reclined on his chair, hands at the back of his head, "We might as well forget about this whole "happy dinner together" thing we've laboriously arranged," he complained.

"Lighten up. She'll behave," Ophelia supposed simply, motivating Nutella to bark positively.

Leliana comfortably settled in her own seat and added, "You talked to her some more?"

Ophelia couldn't read if she was supportive or resentful, "Possibly... Why?"

"They believe you have favored fiery britches over each one of us, precious leader," Zevran casually acknowledged her question as he rolled a coin across his knuckles, "But I personally do not mind," he snuck a wink in.

She snickered, "Don't misconstrue, I like you all equally and would treat you all equally. However, Morrigan… Let's just say she requires the special attention," then she dropped the map on the table, hands fixed sturdily on its tablecloth, "Nevertheless if I had favorites or not, you will all adhere to my rules and keep your plates clean while I go fetch her, understood?" her bearing was slanted in an indomitable fashion. She seriously meant what she said. _There was no fucking with her._

Halfhearted yes's and nods spread through the table.

"Thank you."

[-]

_I can say I hope it will be worth what I give up,  
If I could stand up mean for the things that I believe._

[-]

"You will play cards with us. I will teach you how," Ophelia pressed decisively, seductive with her notion as if she had been the enchantress. She was propped on an elbow, poring over the mage sideways with eyes half-lidded. The candle at the center of their table accentuated her captivating gaze with attractive highlights on her cheekbones. One would wonder if the alluring appearance she portrayed worked for both men and women.

Morrigan had a thousand ripostes waiting to be fired against her ensnaring proposal, but the Warden's dazing proximity coupled with her tipsy concentration conveniently dithered her judgment and she allowed herself to be convinced, " _Ugh…_ And after that? What would then follow? An orgy with everyone?"

Noticing her amicableness, Ophelia triumphantly stood with a leer and heaved her by an arm, "No, I would rather keep you for myself. Come."

"'Twill be the end of my geniality. Cherish it while it lasts," the dark head was removed from the dining area and dragged to the center of their campsite at a slackened pace.

The rest of their group sprawled down on the lush grass at a close radius with the appeasing bonfire. They had playing cards tucked in their hands guardedly and betted with symbolic chips. From the looks of it, Sten was merely watching with Nutella, Wynne was the dealer, and Zevran had taken most of the winnings so far.

Ophelia compulsorily sat Morrigan down on a small bench dramatically to seize their attention. When she received it, she broadcasted with fulfillment, "Morrigan will be playing. Let's start over, I'll be her guide. No actual bets, but pretend the chips are worth something. This one will be for fun."

"Wow. Seriously?" Alistair chimed his shock while the others phonated their _ohs_.

"It seems so," Leliana responded blithely at the same time they recovered their chips.

Two players established the starting bets then Wynne agreeably grabbed all the cards, shuffled them, and roved her hands around to lay them for the waiting players. There was a glint in her eyes as she passed cards to Ophelia's direction, an indication of her acquiescence. _She had made decent progress in the course of a night._

Zevran chuckled upon receiving his hand, "This should be quite enjoyable."

Morrigan grumbled in a whisper, "A single game. That'll be it."

"Or two, if we win. 'Kay?" the opportunist reposed by the grumbler and snatched their cards from the coffee table.

"Haha~ Then I shall lose on purpose."

"No, you won't. I won't let you. Plus, I'm a decent guide," she handled the cards to her pupil's view so she could examine them, then explained the potential of their hand and what was to be done in a murmur.

"So 'tis a sufficient hand or not?" Morrigan enunciated her confusion, determined to quit as soon as possible.

"Perhaps we should keep the bets with a currency, hmm?" Ophelia dared the spoilsport.

"No. That is not necessary," Morrigan surrendered, "Just get this over with."

There were light chuckles at their playful banter.

"Shall we?" Wynne waited for their heads to bob then she dealt the flop and the game was on.

Ophelia silently tutored Morrigan along the process of the repeating calls, bets, checks, and raises. She signified that the game was partially about luck, as card games generally were, but if she participated to win, she had to sell some bluffs. Morrigan continued with her obviously revealing questions, but she was artfully answered vaguely and dishonestly to nullify any enemy players' suspicions. She eventually gave up the suicidal ruse and studied the game itself. It was, indeed, mostly based on the individual's gambling capacity and the deliverance of their gamble. She inspected the miniscule hints of nervousness that crept up Alistair's face as the stakes grew higher. Thusly, she aggressively threw a bunch of her chips and he folded. She noticed Leliana's hesitant body language when the bard bluffed. Hence, she dilatorily intimidated her with notes of how shameful but amusing it would be if she was wrong, and she gently folded. Morrigan had nothing to lose, unlike her competitive companions, she was unaffected by the possibility of being called on her bluff and be embarrassed, making her bluffs effortlessly executed. It was not a simple card game, it was a mind game as well.

Unsurprisingly, Zevran was the only opponent left. Morrigan had skillfully learned the game's mechanics and confidently wielded her own cards. It was pointless to win, she knew, but it would be hysterical to see him lose. She brazenly tossed her chips all-in then uttered with boredom, "Alright Zevran, what will it be?"

"Ha! Are you _that_ confident of your hand?" the short tan man sniggered, "Would your confidence be the same should we make the pot real, I marvel?"

Ophelia butted in for a direct reprisal, "Fine, I'm putting the corresponding sovereigns for Morrigan," she satisfyingly advocated for her and drew out a bag of coins.

"My decision remains the same. Shall we have a look?"

He guffawed momentarily, "Not joking then, are we?" His chips rattled as he fiddled with them and eyed the opposing female who fixated an unflinching stare. He scoffed, "I'll give you this one, my spicy hot woman," he forfeited with an exposure of his cards that made a flush in addition to the cards on a low table.

Morrigan conclusively released the small stiff papers and boggled the entire party.

She had a low one pair.

A chair fell. " _BRASKA!_ "

Ophelia cracked up in contrary to the speechless gawping folk.

"'Twould be intelligent to contemplate that the money wagered wasn't even mine. I care not if I win or lose this stupid little game."

"Maker's breath… She fooled you," Alistair reminded the Antivan.

Zevran composed himself, since he still retained most of his coinage, then clapped in submission, "I have to hand it to you," and he smirked, "Well-played, my dear."

"'Twas easy," Morrigan got up hastily, "Now, I shall collect my prize and–" There was a tug at her hand.

"Oh no you don't," Ophelia pulled her back to her seat, "I betted for you, remember? The least you can do now is play with your earnings some more, and alone this time. I'll be playing too," she tested.

"I see… You wish to throw more of your money? Fine by me."

Leliana tittered, " _Oooh._ Is Morrigan going to be the new card shark? This is exciting."

The ante was settled once more and they played. They played longer till Alistair and Leliana deserted the contest. It wasn't any less entertaining, as the trio were exhilarating to root for, given their snappy comebacks when they staked. They each folded at least on one occurrence but won on another.

In due time, Morrigan ultimately had the smallest amount of chips left, but she preserved her nonchalance at the last chance for her to bet and pitched all of them, "Let us end this."

Zevran and Ophelia shared a questioning glimpse, then he slid the total of his chips in.

Ophelia giggled, "Well, okay…" she mirrored his action, "Let's make this interesting."

They had every chip to lose. This was the end and it was a showdown.

Wynne announced, amused, "Alright, children, show your cards."

Zevran laid down a full house.

Ophelia cheered, "Good hand!" then she laid down a straight flush, "But I think mine's better," she cackled.

"Damn! You women are killing me tonight!"

"Do not be conceited, you have not won yet," Morrigan crossed her legs then laid down her cards, "Read them and weep." It formed a royal flush. The only possible hand better than a straight flush.

Their jaws immediately dropped, loud and doubtful: _NOOO.._.

There was a roar of thunderous applause from Leliana, Alistair, Wynne, and Sten included. Nutella woofed to conform.

Zevran was bent on his knees, on the ground, gazing up, and repetitively asked the Gods why they had forsaken him.

"Beginner's luck!" Ophelia whined, "One more! Not with coins, we bet to be the winner's bitch for a day if we lose!"

Morrigan smiled as she kicked her off of her feet, " _Hmm…_ Maybe next time."

[-]

_Change, change, change, change,_  
 _I want to get up out of my skin,_  
 _Tell you what, if I can shake it,_  
 _Imma make this something worth dreaming of._

[-]

"Enjoying your victory?" Ophelia approached the lucky lady who counted her coins by stacking them on a crate. She must've won enough to buy a medium box of jewelry and fill it.

"Only because of the money," Morrigan affirmed then departed from her tent to join her under the moonlight. She discerned the rogue's different stance: her hands were behind her back.

"And not for the hilarity that ensued at all," she laughed flippantly, "I love you, Morrigan," then she suddenly monotoned.

" _What?_ " Morrigan replied in bewildered surprise, like the time Flemeth sent her off but with more horror.

"You're funny."

_Oh, good. It was just a joke._

The blonde beamed as she exposed her hands, "Well, keep enjoying your night because it's gotten even better," she presented the Black Grimoire, a book Morrigan had requested a search for in the Circle of Magi. "I think you deserve this."

Yellow eyes kindled with delight, "You found Flemeth's grimoire?" She subsequently removed it from the taller woman and roamed her hands over its styled crevices, "When I spoke of it to you, I did not truly hope… Ah! But this is a most fortuitous event!" She looked at the female Warden with gratitude, "You have my thanks. I will begin study of the tome immediately."

Ophelia was silent for a second, then her twinkling silver-light blue eyes twinkled too much for Morrigan's liking. And the next thing she knew, the sly woman had quickly inched in for a kiss.

The delicate onyx lips landed on her rosy ones for a second – then she swerved her head and slapped her heavily out of tremor.

Ophelia caressed her stinging cheek, her eyebrows creased over puppy eyes while she quizzed the gaping witch, "What? Don't I even get a kiss?"

"That is a steep reward to ask for! You are a woman!"

"Doesn't mean you can't kiss one!" The cheery atmosphere plummeted as she immediately twisted to return to her tent.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and sighed tetchily, "Okay!" The hurt puppy turned around sharply and she professed, "On the cheek."

Ophelia grinned and leaned in again, but Morrigan stopped her. The mage initiated the peck this round, but Ophelia took advantage of it and did the same, taking a whiff of her exquisite scent; a scent that almost liquefied her.

Morrigan reverted back five inches from her, "Hah. Always the chancer." Dreamy eyes stuck to her like molasses. "Compensation has been requested and provided. Now quit looking at me like that, and tell no one!"

[-]

_I can say I hope it will be worth what I give up,_   
_If I could stand up mean for the things that I believe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song
> 
> "L.E.S. Artistes" by Santigold


	4. Paradise Circus

Heavy wooden double doors swung open, revealing the respected Grey Warden team that was composed of Ophelia, Alistair, Wynne, and Morrigan; all optimistic except for the temptress. They were back inside Redcliffe's castle and marched onwards to find the First Enchanter Irving and his selected mages. The man had agreed to help them in curing Connor from the demon that possessed him, and traveled to Redcliffe before they had to make meticulous measures for the upcoming exorcism's procedure.

"Ah! There you are," Irving greeted when they entered the vestibule, "We have brought lyrium and begun preparations for the ritual. We can start anytime."

"Eager to get to the point, I like that," Ophelia halted with her team then asked while she studied his groundwork, "Do you have any last-minute advice?"

His voice grumbled for a thought, "It truly depends on the manner of demon. It sounds like a spirit of greed and desire, one of the more powerful in the hierarchy. It will likely engage you in dialog and tempt you with an offer. Avoid it. Making deals with demons never turns out well."

She cringed inside from a diminutive pang of something sore in her chest but wobbled it away with a subtle cough and hurried declaration, "Let's do this now."

Alistair whispered his concern, "I'm glad we decided to take this route. This is really the best option." She negligibly nodded at his encouragement.

Irving proceeded forward and spread his arms open with his question, "Very well. Who will go into the Fade?"

Ophelia keenly observed the two mages at her sides, her elbow rested on an arm as she held her chin up to think profoundly. She was instructed prior by Jowan that it had to be a mage to do the deed. _But exactly who would be best for the job?_

She examined Wynne who looked at her with tentative eyes - yet somehow also eager. The old woman would certainly help if called for... However, she was a supportive mage, not an offensive one. She could fight a bit, sure. But only upon dire situations. This run in the Fade would require an aggressive fighter, able to single-handedly be rid of demons. One that had practiced destructive spells. _Which could only mean..._

Her eyes switched to Morrigan's direction. She was a great damage dealer, and even capable of healing. Not to mention, the way she was found by her in the Fade the last time... She was the perfect candidate. Though she was obviously avoiding eye contact and, thusly, being assigned; what with her yellow irises searching for a dirt on the carpet underneath their feet. Oh, but she felt Ophelia's hawk eyes on her and she momentarily took a glimpse back. _She knew that she would get mentioned._

"Morrigan is going."

The witch snapped, "Don't I get a say in this?"

The ice queen had thawed a tad since that week at the Circle of Magi, and behaved well for the most part by rarely speaking. When she spoke, it was mostly for Ophelia and Zevran. They were the two that could withstand her attitude without complaint... And the mutt. The herb-eating machine she had grown quite fond of. But damn that female rogue for successfully persuading her into taking basic spirit healing lessons with Wynne. Well, the new found knowledge was worth it, she admitted. But how long could she remain verbally satisfactory for everyone and enduring of her leader's demands? She was unequivocally unsure.

Ophelia sighed then demonstrated her usual coercion, "You're strong, Morrigan. Strong, perceptive, sagacious... You have the right resources for killing demons. I have a lot of faith that you can accomplish this fast with little to no problem."

Morrigan's upper lip slanted, "You are right in those things, _but I_...!" she tried to ponder anything that she could use as a defense without sounding lazy or stubbornly difficult. Unable to think of any, she deeply exhaled to surrender her slowly building anger, "Fine! But this means you owe me!"

Ophelia gave her a small smile, "Thank you for your cooperation, Morrigan." She gazed back at Irving expectantly.

He noticed that as his cue, "Then let us begin forthwith." He quietly regarded Morrigan to her spot inside the seal on the floor. She petulantly obliged and sauntered to her place.

Irving's group encircled the hexagon on the flooring then, together, chanted and raised their hands, projecting white electricity upward. They formed a hovering ball of energy that illuminated the disarrayed hall brightly, nearly blinding if directly stared at.

Morrigan waited patiently, carelessly oblivious, until a zap of lightning from the ball hit her on the chest. There was an injured gasp then she convulsively trembled, eyes rolling over into white. The rogue speedily anticipated what came next.

Morrigan's eyes gradually shut while she lost control of her body and Ophelia instantly caught her when she fell, hands tenderly grasping the nape of her neck and a hip. Upon the contact, sharp static on her skin threatened her to release, but she forcibly held on to deliver a steady descent. She bent a knee then the jolts dissipated, and she watched her carefully as if dallying for a reaction.

When there was none, she gently laid her down on the ground. Her palms and fingers hesitated to let her go – because for a fleeting moment, she admired her peaceful state and wished she could part strands of black hair blocking her beautiful face and caress a smooth cheek without anyone witnessing.

[-]

_It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm,_  
_We can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable,_  
_Oh well the devil makes us sin,_  
_But we like it when we're spinning, in his grin._

[-]

Morrigan was totally fuming; the smoke that evaporated around her could've been hers, had it not been from the imaginary gravel of the Fade.

She entered another portal and cursed to herself. If she encountered any more damnable fake Connors, she would wake up in real life and kill the child with her own hands. And after that, she would also maybe kill the woman that pushed her into this or make her hope she was dead.

Precisely twenty maddened steps later, she found a demon in its true form and approached it irascibly. _Bugger. Finally._

"Very well. No more illusions. Now we meet face-to-face. You see my true form and stand in my domain," the demon welcomed, chest haughtily jutted outwards as if it was challenging Morrigan to a bigger bust battle, "It is here I am most powerful, and yet I have no wish to engage your power. Nor should you be so eager to engage mine. Perhaps we should converse instead?"

The bitch's sultry voice could've deceived a woman like Ophelia, Morrigan mused, but not her. So she sneered, "I will not become an abomination, no matter what you try."

"One soul I already possess, I do not need another. You need not fear me on that account. I wish only to talk."

She showed it tenacity, "Do you take me for a fool? I know better than to bargain with your kind."

The desire demon scowled, "Alas, that is sad. Very well, then. If you wish a battle, you will have it," then it smirked and waved its hands whimsically to prepare for an attack, "Let us see if your power matches your boldness, creature."

It charged at her and her immediate response was to envelop it in frost once it got in her range. She quickly thrust her palms outwards, freezing the fiend solid, then she pulled back, gathered enough will for a second, and thrust her palms out again, projecting a long controllable stream of fire. Just then, it broke from the ice and, with vertical streaks of light, vanished.

Morrigan swayed her head in search of her target, perplexed. Then it appeared; it appeared in four different platforms in the distance. Knowing that it was a trick and only one out of the four was the real deal, she surveyed for any distinguishable difference. She discovered the leftmost gleaming form not to be an illusion but the demon. However, she was a heartbeat too late, and it unleashed an entropic wave upon her.

Brief flashes of morbid images stunned her mind. She gripped her head and clenched her teeth as the memories from her painful past spiraled in her throbbing brain.

_A loud crunch from a fleshy component._

_The darkened shape of a man on a wall as it wailed in agony._

_A prolonged terrifying scream._

_The sliding of a bloodied machete across the floorboards._

_A reverberating cackle of vicious veneration._

_The smell of foul stench wafting from rotting limbs._

The unremitting gruesomeness stopped, then she cried out as thunderous bolts of shock pierced her. Her eyes shot open, and she realized that the demon had trapped her in a lightning storm. She shrieked and shuddered irrepressibly.

_Fuck this shit. How the fuck did she end up in this state of affairs? The boy should just die, along with his stupid idiot mother. Fuck Ophelia for compelling her to do her foolish bidding. She would kill this bitch, then the boy, then Ophelia, when she got free._

Enraged, she wriggled away and, with her will and her fingers extended, continuously sucked all of the remaining life force of the devil, even when it strained to interrupt her casting. The minute she regained all of her physical strength, she hurled her residual mana into a cone of electrifying bolts.

The demon exploded into thousands of precipitating sparkles and her arms dropped to her sides. She panted heavily before she kneeled and rested her head on the ethereal nadir, fists dreadfully balling into it.

[-]

_Love is like a sin my love,_  
_For the ones that feels it the most,_  
_Look at her with her eyes like a flame,_  
_She will love you like a fly will never love you, again._

[-]

Tall trees wavered along with the forest wind. The afternoon sun shone a considerably radiant luster on leaves of plants.

A day and a half had passed. Morrigan stayed utterly silent, even to Ophelia and Zevran. Nobody really bothered her, because she didn't really want to be bothered. They continued with their minor errands around town; minor errands that normally annoyed her. If she was to keep her cool, she needn't communicate with anyone.

To finish the Chanter's Board and Blackstone Irregular's quests faster, they split into two groups. She was with Ophelia, Zevran, and Alistair, completing the harder of the quests.

A broken caravan was deserted in the midsection of the road and the woods, its damaged parts stretched across the meadow. They moved toward the main vehicle and inspected it closely.

Inside, Ophelia exposed a wooden chest. She hove it out, squatted, then rapped her hand on it. _It seemed okay_. Her hands reached for the grooves to open it and figured: "It's locked." She turned to Zevran eagerly, "Do you know how to pick locks?"

He rose a brow, "What? Forgive me, but isn't that your specialty?"

"Yes, it is. But this has a complicated lock and I'm…" she scratched her head for an excuse, "Heh. Well, I'm lazy…"

Alistair interjected, "If you'd like, I can try to pry it open with my sword. Or maybe slash it open… Is that a good idea?"

" _Ha!_ Alistair, it's a good thing you're cute," she chuckled and patted his shoulder, "But we want what's inside. You silly little boy, you'll break its contents."

"Okay, fine. Thanks for making me feel useless," he sniffed.

" _Haha~_ Shut up, you're not useless." She glimpsed at the shorter man, eyes narrowed, "Unlike Zevran over here…"

"Hey hey hey! I'm not always useless! You are well-aware of what I can do," he winked.

" _Yeaaa_ , you can hump a treasure chest to open. _Mmhmm_ ," she jested sarcastically then showily flourished some picklocks out of her pockets, "Time for the expert to do everything around here." She leisurely bent over to do her work, metals already clanking.

 _Her provocative posture was angled on purpose._ Zevran discerned and whispered, "Tsk, tsk. How long have you been traveling with her, my good man?" The question was aimed at Alistair.

"Err… Pretty much since the beginning of our journey… Why?" the taller man also whispered in reply.

"Does she do this a lot?"

"What? Pick locks?"

"No, no…" An exaggerated exhalation. "You are such a virgin. Nevermind."

"Or maybe I'm just not as perverted as you…"

Morrigan bowled her eyes at their goofy banter. She felt out of place amongst the trio. In fact, she felt out of place amongst everyone. She brooded over her reasons for being there. _She truly belonged in the Korcari Wilds._

The lock clicked as it unlocked. " _Voilà!_ I am so talented…"

"That you are, my dear…"

A monstrous shriek resonated. They simultaneously spun around in unison to find the source.

Ophelia's countenance dropped its playfulness, "Darkspawn," she uttered seriously and took the forefront.

There they were, a number of yards apart from them, taunting for a fight. There must've at least been two dozen of them.

She delegated in a low tone, "Morrigan keep your distance. Alistair take the bulk. Let's kill the emissaries first."

"I get the short one," Zevran declared with a grin.

Ophelia scoffed, unsurprised, then they unsheathed their weapons and advanced onwards.

The team did as Ophelia had told. Alistair ran first with a war cry and lured most of the darkspawn. Zevran went ahead and sprinted for the genlock emissary, stabbing grunts that toddled his way. She dashed for the hurlock emissary but didn't look back because she trusted that Morrigan would be okay.

_Tchiiing––––––_

She easily beheaded a grunt on the side with a horizontal slash using her right-hand dagger.

_Tshuuuck!_

She whirled around expending momentum from her principal strike and pierced another grunt in the neck using her left-hand dagger.

Headlong, her target hurlock chucked rocks in her direction in determination to save itself. She evaded it by ducking and redirecting it somewhere else with appropriate swipes of her blades. Her feet raced faster to prevent it from casting an additional spell, then she sliced the emissary where it stood.

Afterwards, she heard a booming thumping and the earth shook. She rapidly twirled and saw an ogre. An ogre that was on its way to… _What the fuck?_

Alistair was on fire. She was going to warn him to be on guard, but Morrigan had summoned a swirling flame in his radius, engulfing the darkspawn on fire… With him.

"STOP MORRIGAN!" she yelled at her and progressed towards the Templar.

The mage did stop then the ogre came for her. It suddenly tripped with a noisy thud as grease oozed from the soil underneath. A burning grunt dumbly stumbled into the mire and it caught fire. Ugly screeches filled their ears as the darkspawn all burned to their deaths.

Ophelia and Zevran rushed to haul Alistair from the fray and unto safer land. He rolled on the ground as she detached her small cape and smothered the fire on him with it.

When the flames were put out, Ophelia hunkered down for his prone form, "Are you okay, Alistair?" Her platinum eyes beheld his with clear care.

He groaned then breathed out, "Yea... I think so..."

She helped him get to an upright position on the terrain, "Good."

Zevran remarked, "And so my hunch has been proven correct. Fiery britches is truly fiery, let me tell you..."

She shot him a glare, unappreciative of his witticism, "Quiet. Do not discuss about Morrigan and what happened here any further till we get back to camp." He soundlessly gulped and nodded then she returned her concern to Alistair who removed his sweltering armor, "Zevran, grab our bag by the caravan and tend to his wounds. I need to talk to Morrigan." He gave another nod, then she firmly regained her bearing and trudged to Morrigan, footsteps heavy from frustrated disappointment.

The witch had her back to her, viewing the scene she orchestrated out of impulse.

Ophelia didn't bother to christen her name. "What is the problem with you?" she queried with an imposing speech that wasn't a shout, but it had enough disdain to hint that she wasn't pleased.

Morrigan rotated to face her but didn't answer her question, "'Twas a brilliant plan, was it not? All these darkspawn dead and at one fell swoop?"

The Grey Warden winced from the temptation to reprimand her with vociferous bellows, but she suppressed it and objected instead, "No! They could've died either way without the cost of your reckless plan!"

Morrigan stepped forward to greet her eye-to-eye and retorted, "The ogre would've rammed Alistair, had I not ignited the fire. He would've taken a heavier beating had the ogre succeeded! Not to mention, Alistair is a Templar. Like he once boasted, he can handle my magic! Do you not see the logic in what I have accomplished – ' _oh' so intelligent leader_?"

"The logic I fail to comprehend is why you had to involve friendly fire into it! We would've rid of them without the need to hurt Alistair!" Ophelia threw her hands skywards, emphasizing the absurdity.

"Why don't you ask him how bad his wounds are? Would you like me to heal him? 'Tis miniscule compared to what could've transpired!"

"We can take those chances! Do not assume we can't! We are far more skilled than that!"

"And save as much time and effort as this had?"

"Enough!" she sneered, "You obviously refuse to see my point. I will have no more excuses. Take your reasons elsewhere. You will meet the consequences later, in camp. For now, say no more," her intense glower deflected hers.

Morrigan's face became plastered with infuriated disbelief, " _Consequences_?"

Ophelia departed bereft of attention for the scowling witch, whose breathing elevated.

_How predictable - she simply abandoned all confrontations she started when it became unbearable for her, like she had already won. She dreamed she would do something more about it, because she was not afraid._

[-]

 _It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm,_  
_We can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable,_  
_Oh well the devil makes us sin,_  
_But we like it when we're spinning, in his grin._

[-]

Evening dwindled, they ended their questing spree then retired to their camp. The noiseless night didn't help in soothing the tension between the party and everyone didn't speak unless spoken to by Ophelia.

She entered the crowded enclosed portion of their camp and inquired the old healer, "How is he, Wynne?"

"I still have my voice, you know," Alistair groused, seated on a stool.

She smiled at him, "I see _and_ hear that. I'm glad you do," then referred to the senior again, earnestly, "But it's Wynne I want to hear from specifically… So how is he?"

"His injuries were not bad. He received some minor burns and scrapes, nothing malicious," Wynne reported honestly.

"Alright," Ophelia supposed solely then eyed the other members for a minute.

As soon as her eyes landed on Leliana's, she requested, "Perhaps we can be on _the subject_ now?"

 _The subject_ was the pressure that burdened the group. No one was to gossip about _the subject_ 'til it was appointed. If they were to babble, it would've caused more needless drama.

Ophelia's head drooped when she sighed, "The time of reckoning _is_ inevitable..." then she improved her pose and gave a rundown, "To summarize, in our mission, Morrigan utilized a reckless shortcut which involved friendly fire…" She regarded the Templar with a gesture, "Hence, hurting Alistair."

The bard anxiously sat up in her chair, "She hurt Alistair on purpose?"

"I… I'm not sure. An impending ogre was going to ram him – so to discourage the ogre, she set fire to the darkspawn in his circumference. He was at the focal point of it, so burning was inescapable. It was a brash act to eradicate the darkspawn; not necessarily intended for him, I would say."

"But she didn't care about what happened to him?"

"Hmm... No. I suppose not. She didn't display signs of distress for Alistair… She dismissed his wounds as miniscule… Which shouldn't be how a teammate should act."

Wynne added, "Yes. You should enlighten her about that. I have perceived from the very beginning that she isn't precisely fellowship quality."

"She unquestionably isn't," Ophelia looked at Alistair, "How do you feel about Morrigan's deed?"

"Physically? I'm okay. I can fight. Emotionally? I want to get back at her for trying to fry me alive," he itched at his neck, "But… There's time for that."

"Okay... You have my permission; just don't be too evil. Maybe I'll even help," she giggled a bit with Alistair. "Well… Anyway, I take partial fault for not warning her about friendly fire. She has the most expertise at area of effect damage after all."

Leliana disagreed, "But that's common knowledge. No one should try to kill their teammates."

"You forget – this is Morrigan we're discussing." Ophelia adjusted her gloves to detract her sight from them in slight demur, "At any rate, she does deserve punishment… I agree."

Wynne identified her light indisposition and commiserated, "You should make her apologize. If she's remorseful, that is enough. Well… In addition, to whatever you plan with Alistair."

_She became lenient for the witch since her performance at the poker game._

"I've thought of that." Ophelia bobbed her head a little, then smacked her lips from indecision, "But this will be a milestone..."

Alistair sanctioned, "Well, I'm alive. If she really wanted to kill me… I'd be dead. I guess… I guess I can give her that."

Zevran chimed in, "She did manage to obliterate the most of the darkspawn."

Leliana deduced, "As long as she shows some guilt, knowing what she did was wrong, everything should be golden."

Sten remained quiet, indifferent for the drama.

Ophelia shrugged, "'Kay… Let's hope this ends well."

[-]

"Leave me, you stupid drooling hound," Morrigan flapped her hands in shooing motions, lurching backwards to avoid the dog.

Nutella whined and persisted to nudge at her boots.

"What is it that you want? A herb? Have you forgotten? You gluttonous mongrel, you have finished all the elfroots," she was at a standstill when her back touched the trunk of a tree and he licked at her shoe, " _Ugggh_ …"

At that point, Ophelia arrived. _Calmer than the last time they conversed._

She whistled a certain way and Nutella barked obediently then scrammed. Her silver eyes settled on golden globes then she articulated resolutely, "We have achieved a verdict… You are to express regret for what you did to Alistair. That is all you must do."

_Express regret? What she did was reasonable, couldn't she accept that? If Alistair was okay, which he was, why couldn't she just leave her alone? Why did she feel the need to focus all her attention on her? Why should she follow everything the woman demanded her to do? She wasn't her simple lackey, who must oblige without protest._

"You passed judgment over what I had done?" Morrigan created a transitory sound of surprise, "Why I've never…" She was speechless for a second then crossed her arms, "I will not ask for forgiveness. No matter how hard you try."

_Damn her and her bolshiness. She was being nice then she lobs it at her face. This didn't have to be difficult._

Exasperated, Ophelia closed their gap, "It wasn't an appeal," her eyes tapered, "It's an order."

Morrigan didn't flinch, "May I _at least_ have the answer as to why 'tis an order?"

"I've said it before and, just for you, I will say it again – you committed friendly fire. If it was strategized before we did battle, it would be fine. Alas, you committed it out of a whim. Say that you regret what you've done, and everything will be back to normal," Ophelia implied imperturbably.

" _Hmph._ Fine," Morrigan's eyebrows rose mockingly, "'Tis what you desire? 'Tis what you shall have. Let me apologize to him, _Ophelia_ ," she stated then walked away.

Ophelia blinked in unexpected awe.

_There was a distinct roll of her tongue upon pronunciation of her name that she didn't like… What was she planning? This couldn't be good…_

She followed the parading dark head to the epicenter of their camp, where everyone had assembled, standing. Once Morrigan was in their circle, they surveyed her semi-cheerful mien.

The enchantress began, "I'm confident you all recognize why I am here…"

Silence and stares.

"Oh, _Alistair?_ " she tested, pretending she did not already see him.

"Present!" Alistair separated from the crowd to meet her, "Here I am."

" _Ah_ , _swell_ ~" she batted her eyelashes before she grinned, "I was terrified I hurt you immensely." Her façade transformed into something consoling, "And so I have come to apologize..."

He put some fingers beside an earlobe, ardently prepared, " _Yes…?"_

"I am sorry…" she delayed.

They tried to anticipate what she would say next by glancing at each other for a clue.

"What's that?"

"That you are a foolishly weak Templar and cannot endure my powerful magic!" she abruptly exclaimed, full of scorn.

Their eyes and mouths opened wide, dumbfounded.

Alistair grimaced, "Why you are a complete and utter _bitch_!" he was about to give her a piece of him but Leliana hindered his movement.

"No! Don't stoop down to her level," the red head dejected.

Ophelia grabbed Morrigan by an arm, almost lifting her, "What are you doing? You've just made it worse for yourself! For crying out loud, couldn't you just apologize?"

_She was typically self-destructive, but she believed she had changed, even by a bit._

"Unlike these pitiful weaklings you protect, I can stand up for myself!" Morrigan hissed and strenuously snatched her arm to be released.

She whirled daggers at Wynne, "You – old woman! You have barely joined our group, you are not at liberty to preach!"

" _Morrigan–!"_

She breathed fire at Leliana, "You – sanctimonious bigot! Choke on the self-righteous manure that retch out of your mouth, for that is what 'tis worth to me!"

" _MORRIGAN!"_ Ophelia forcefully veered her around.

" _AND YOU––!"_ Morrigan's glower couldn't be outmatched this time. She totally detonated, "You dirty harlot! I was mistaken! YOU ARE AS IMBECILIC AS THESE WRETCHED FOOLS YOU'VE CHOSEN TO TRAVEL WITH!"

Ophelia staggered back, flabbergasted. Her mouth fell ajar and her eyes flickered while they traced a large trapezoid in the starry sky.

_After everything she had given and done for her…_

She finished daydreaming of stars and smirked at her finding, "Well, you know what Morrigan?" Her head tilted forward, "It all sounds like a personal problem to me."

A scoff. "A _personal problem_?"

"Yes. You despise our company and prefer loneliness?" she flung an index finger in the smaller camp's direction and gazed at her with vicious pertinaciousness, "Fine, chatter with the trees you adore. We don't require your apology, anymore."

Morrigan's lips parted. She concealed the massive twinge that stabbed her at heart by saying nothing. _How dare she…_

" _If I wished companionship, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds. If I spoke, 'twas to the trees."_

Powerless to withstand the torment any further, she slapped her. Ruthless and unforgiving.

Ophelia recoiled from her vigorous slap… _Fucking bitch…_  
  
Then she smacked the witch too. Twice.

First with the palm.

Second with the back of her hand.

Morrigan gasped, shaken up by the merciless strikes the rogue had delivered. Absolutely offended and furious, she raised a hand to hit her again.

Midway into smacking the subtly tanned face, Ophelia seized the instigating hand, "QUIT IT!"

Morrigan didn't quit. Instead, she relinquished a sphere of lightning with her moveable hand and punched Ophelia square on the gut with it.

_"OOF!"_

It exploded then Ophelia's boots raked into the ground and created two muddled lines, ten feet in length from their original location. Kneeling down, she clutched her aching abdomen and coughed. Her eyes twitched as sparks of static pinched at her whole body.

While Leliana hurriedly ran to tend Ophelia, Morrigan spat, yellow eyes appearing more wounded than the stirring stomach which took the blow she inflicted, "I'm leaving," then she stormed to her tent.

_How dare she… How could she use what she vulnerably shared only with her deliberately against her?_

Ophelia bit her lower lip and wobbled her head, eyes sealed. _She fucked up._

_It wasn't her fault. She was intelligent and independent; but in the end, when it all boiled down to it, she was confused and lost in this world. No. She couldn't let her go..._

Despite the pain that lingered, Ophelia willed herself to stand promptly. Leliana complained she shouldn't but she did. Her feet jogged in haste, trailing Morrigan to her tent.

[-]

"Morrigan..." Ophelia murmured by the tent's covers, her expression as soft as her tone.

Morrigan instantly dropped the items she was packing and readied to cast a spell.

Ophelia rushed and grappled her wrists before she could shoot her, "PLEASE! I can help you!"

The shards of ice perforated holes in the tent's ceiling.

"NO! I do not need any help! Let go of me!" Morrigan struggled in front of her, arms waving in rampant motions. She strained to bash her way loose, but her grip just tightened.

Then the Warden trapped her hands on a tabletop. _Fuck, she wasn't as feeble as she appeared. Kicking would be ridiculous._  
  
"I didn't mean to..." Ophelia's voice quivered. Then she begged desperately, "I'm sorry! Please! You're my friend!"

"Leave me be! I never had a friend! I was never capable of making one!" Morrigan rejected then hefted her hands, along with Ophelia's, off the table. _But it was true. She was the closest thing to a friend that she ever had._

Ophelia twisted their arms so she was practically hugging her, then whispered, "Morrigan... It's okay... Vent your frustration on me. I know it's me you're livid about."

"You are a hopeless blind fool! Release me!" Morrigan pushed her forte and got what she desired – but it was short-lived – she yelped as Ophelia tackled her afterwards.

The taller woman toppled over her on the floor then pinned her arms above her head, helpless to avoid her gaze.

Twin moons were glossed with compassion and... Something else the dark head couldn't label.

"Get off!" Morrigan nearly whimpered.

"You're frightened! I know! And you know that I know you better than anyone!"

"GET OFF!"

"Forgive me... But... I can't just let you leave..."

She only had time for a sharp intake of breath when the obsidian lips descended on hers. Her mouth was agape and Ophelia abused the opportunity, sticking her slick tongue in and she wheezed in dispute.

_She didn't want this..._

Morrigan pivoted her head at every angle, frantic to be freed.

_Why did she carelessly allow herself to become so exposed to her?_

But the blonde's head was deeply pressed into hers, restricting her frenzy.

_Why did it hurt so much when she said those words?_

And the tongue that sweetened by every pulsating heartbeat pursued hers indefinitely.

_...Did she?_

[-]

_Love is like a sin my love,_

Canines cut the fleshy fold that margined the lower rim of a mouth.

_For the one that feels it the most,_

And from the severed fleshy fold, roseate fluid trickled.

_Look at her with her smile like a flame,_

Then white teeth bared naked, scheming.

_She will love you like a fly will never love you, again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song
> 
> "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack (Recommended: Gui Boratto Remix)


End file.
